Outside of Time
by Emmeebee
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots featuring Hermione and Regulus as schoolmates, enemies, allies, friends and partners. All are AU. Written for the '366 Days of Writing' Challenge.
1. Open

His whole childhood had been a constant study in the importance of concealing one's emotions. Blacks were notorious for their passion, which made any sentiment a hundred times stronger than it might have otherwise been, so his parents had gone to great pains to ensure that he knew how to appear calm even as his insides simmered in self-righteous fury. Over time, it had become like breathing to him; easy and instinctual and impossible to do without.

With her, things were different. She broke through his shields with the ease of a lion bounding through long blades of grass to get to him, sending him off kilter without even trying. At first, the unexpected vulnerability was terrifying. But she exposed herself to him with equal measure, almost as if she couldn't even imagine doing any different. There was a darkness to her that rivalled his own, with the only difference being the way that she chose to use it. For the first time in his life, he was completely and utterly open with another human being, and she with him.

And he relished it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'open'


	2. His Return

"I want to help," Regulus insisted as he stared, unperturbed, at the three teenagers. Being tossed to the ground of the Department of Mysteries after having resigned himself to death had been disorienting to say the least. The realisation that his return had occurred a mere hour after his brother's death, as if the Veil had exacted some kind of macabre exchange, had been even worse. But it hadn't been until days later, when Albus Dumbledore had taken custody of him and spirited him away to his childhood home, that he had come to appreciate the length of time that had passed since his own death. After having been interrogated by the Order of the Phoenix as they tried to determine his trustworthiness, reassuring three kids that he was on their side would be simple. "I couldn't stop him in my own time, but I can help you stop him in yours."

"Why should we trust _you_?" snapped the boy with the intense green eyes that watched him with a mixture of longing and bitterness. He, out of all of them, seemed to be taking the unexpected switch the hardest.

"Because you have no other choice if you want to defeat the Dark Lord. You can't do it without me."

"You're just as likely to stab us in the back as to help us. You're a Death Eater, just like your _dear_ cousin Bellatrix."

The girl glanced at the Potter boy in concern, confirming Regulus' assumption that there was a story behind his anger. Forcing himself not to fire back at him, he shrugged and said, "I was one, yes. But I deserted back in 1979. If my 'dear cousin' ever finds out, she'll kill me herself to salvage the family name. I have no reason to help them and every reason to bring them down."

"Harry, I… I believe him," the girl said, and Regulus' curious gaze automatically shifted to her. With hair so bushy that it could house a bird's nest and clothes that looked almost uncomfortably Muggle, she wouldn't have been his first choice of ally. Still, someone was better than no one. And, if the things Lupin had said about her while introducing him to the younger group were correct, she might be better than almost anyone. "I know you don't want to, but I think we can trust him."

"Hermione, you can't be serious," the redhead interrupted. "He's – he's a murderer!"

Her eyebrows pulled down as a conflicted expression crossed her face. "I know; he has done some terrible things. I'm not saying that any of us have to _like_ him. But he left them out of love, Ron. No one with that strong of a bond to his house-elf can be all bad. And the Headmaster is considering letting him join the order, which he wouldn't do that if weren't sure that he could be trusted." Turning back to face Regulus, she continued, "I'm not saying I think you're good. I just think you're telling the truth about wanting Voldemort gone."

"Noted," he replied, mildly amused by her little point of clarification at the end. Potter and Weasley still looked conflicted, but they both appeared to be mulling things over. His focus, however, was on her. The more people he had on his side, the greater the chance of them allowing him some freedom – the ability to move about unsupervised, his own wand – in the weeks and months to come. "And I am."

* * *

A/N: Prompt - 'bond'


	3. Happiness

Hermione listens avidly as Harry describes how to cast the spell. A happy memory and an incantation; it sounds simple enough. But she knows from Harry's experiences with the Dementors two years ago that it's a lot more complicated than that. Requiring an accurate memory, true happiness and a decent amount of magical power, it's one of the hardest spells the DA plans to tackle this year.

She's determined to do it within the session.

"Alright, you can start now. Just remember not to let yourself get frustrated. If you're stressed, it's much harder to cast."

With a last glance at the blue-eyed boy standing next to her, Hermione closes her eyes. She doesn't even have to think about which memory to use; one comes to mind almost immediately. Last Saturday, she and Regulus were sitting on a transfigured lounge in a quiet corner of the library, their arms brushing against one another as they talked and read in turn. Being with him felt so peaceful, so _right_ , and it had hit her that that he was everything she wanted in a wizard. As a child, she had always assumed that romance would come once she'd finished school, if it all. But it had come early, and it had come to stay.

Picturing the scene in her mind, she basks in the sense of sheer joy that washes over her. It feels like a sunrise, filling her with light and warmth and stunning her with its beauty. Holding tightly to it, she whispers, "Expecto Patronum."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'spell'


	4. Enchanted

"You enchant me," she admits as her fingers trail along his arm. Relishing in the way he shivers under her touch, she adds, "Everything about you is just... You're sort of perfect, Reg."

"Nobody's perfect," he points out, straightening out one of her thick curls just to watch it bounce back into place again when he lets it go. "If you think I am, you're deluding yourself."

"Fine; you're flawed, but your imperfections are all things that make you sort of perfect _for_ _me_."

He wants to brush that off as well. After years of being called perfect by his parents only to realise, too late, how warped their sense of good and bad is, the word always gets on his nerves. It's just another reminder of how ignorant and egotistical he used to be. But he knows that Hermione isn't saying it because she thinks he can do no wrong; she's saying it because she knows better and loves him anyway. And that makes all the difference. Wrapping the strand of soft hair around his finger, he murmurs in response, "You enchant me, too."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'enchant'


	5. Of the Stars

Hermione slipped off the stool and hurried over to the table where her new housemates were politely applauding for her. Sliding onto the bench, she looked around at the mass of students bedecked in black and green. Previously, Muggle-born students hadn't been welcome in Slytherin House. According to _Hogwarts: A History_ , there had been a push to overturn the ban in the wake of the second wizarding war, and it had finally gone through a few months prior. She knew that many of her housemates would be wary of her, but prejudice wouldn't be publicly tolerated. And, she had to admit, she liked the idea of proving to them that she deserved to be there just as much as she did. It was supposed to be excellent at setting people up for future success, so she would prove that she could make use of that just as effectively as anyone else could. It would be a challenge, but it would be worth it if she could pull it off.

And she knew she was smart enough to do it. From the first moment she'd read that Muggle-borns were being accepted into Slytherin House for the first time that year, she had known that that was where she wanted to go. She was even used to not having any friends, so she could deal with that if she had to.

"Hullo," the boy sitting beside her said. "My name's Regulus Black. What's yours?"

"Like the star?" she asked, having wondered about his name since he'd first been called up for his own Sorting. Her name was unusual in the Muggle world, but it fit right in with the peculiar names of her classmates here.

"Like the star," he confirmed, and she tried to remember all she could about the star in question.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that it took her a few moments to notice that he was watching her expectantly. "Oh!" she cried, remembering his question. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Like Helen of Troy's daughter?" he teased.

"Like Helen of Troy's daughter," she said in exactly the same tone as he had. Proudly, she added, " _And_ I'm a Muggle-born. So you shouldn't even bother trying to be my friend if you care about that sort of thing."

He blinked but didn't respond to her comment other than to say, "Most people don't know what my name's referring to. Do you like astronomy?"

A brilliant smile lit up her face at his answer. "I love it. My uncle's an astrophysicist, so he showed me how to use a telescope and told me about all of the things I could see. I'm so excited that it's an actual _class_ here!"

"What's an astrophysicist?"

Just as she was about to reply, a prefect leaned over and shushed them. "Listen now, talk later. People are starting to notice."

Hermione blushed furiously, but she shot Regulus a sheepish smile before turning around to face the front again. The boy was fascinating; if all of her housemates were as friendly and interesting as him, she could see herself fitting in very well in Slytherin.

Talk later, indeed.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'The Great Hall'


	6. Her Mirror

He is like a mirror into her soul. Through him, she can see herself; her strengths, her faults, her true character. Every little idiosyncrasy is reflected back and magnified until she can see herself with greater clarity than she ever has before. But, with him, there is no judgement; his lens is tinted neither rose nor grey. Another person would see her differently, and yet another differently still. Nevertheless, the image he reveals is as close to the full picture as any one observer can see; for, with him, she doesn't have to hide anything, and can instead truly be herself.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'mirror'


	7. Naming

Hermione hummed as she gently rocked her sleeping daughter. The little girl, whose tiny fingers were curled around the edge of her lilac blanket, looked peaceful, but Hermione knew that even the slightest noise could wake her. In the two short weeks since they'd brought her home from the hospital, she had gained a new appreciation for the concept of uninterrupted sleep.

"Hermione?" Regulus murmured, looking up from the book of baby names he had been flicking through. Despite their best efforts, they hadn't yet found a name they both liked. The difficulty, or so they were finding, was that there weren't that many girls' names that followed the Black tradition of being based on a star or constellation while also being easily pronounceable. "What about Lucy?"

She looked up at him in surprise.

"It's a white dwarf in the constellation Centaurus," he explained. "I didn't think about it earlier, because it's only a nickname and it's a reference to a Muggle song, but…"

Hermione loved the name; it was pretty and sweet, and, best of all, it _wasn't_ a name that their daughter would have to constantly spell and sound out to other people. And she had grown up listening to the Beatles, so that was fitting as well. But…

"Your parents won't approve," she pointed out. She knew that her husband was determined to make his own choices in life – case in point being that he'd married her – but family and tradition still meant a lot to him. "Aren't we supposed to go with something obviously astral?"

He shrugged. "She's the first publicly acknowledged half-blood Black; she's already an anomaly. I think it's appropriate for her name to acknowledge that as well."

"Lucy Black," Hermione whispered as she looked down at their daughter, whose eyelids started twitching as she began to awaken. "I like it."

* * *

A/N: Astronomers believe that the white dwarf BPM 37093 is crystalline and so nicknamed it after the Beatles' song _Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds_. I thought it would be a nice way to honour both of their backgrounds.

Prompt: 'awaken'


	8. Growing

Her feelings for him grow stronger by the day, like seeds slowly taking root in soft soil. She likes to talk to him about the past - for her, distant; for him, not so much - and he reveals more to her and her earnest questions than to all of the others' sly attempts combined. Each day, she learns more about him. Each day, the seeds develop that little bit more.

But she knows she has to keep these blossoming feelings locked tightly away inside her chest, out of sight of the rest of the world. If anyone finds out, her judgement will be seen as compromised, and she won't be allowed to visit him anymore.

Frankly, she can't let that happen. She is, objectively speaking, the best suited to the task. And, no matter what some of the other Order members say, it - and _he_ \- is worth it.

She won't let a simple little crush jeopardise their cause, even it's blooming into something more.

One day, she hopes, she will be able to tell him about her feelings, presenting him with a beautiful flower bed established inside her heart. But, for now, she keeps them hidden. Because she has to.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'hidden'


	9. Choosing a Side

Regulus watches her with open curiosity as she studies, her head bent so low over the textbook that it's a wonder her hair isn't blocking her vision. He doesn't understand her, this girl who somehow manages to constantly top the year despite being both Gryffindor and Muggle-born. It doesn't make sense for her to be the brains behind Harry Potter's survival. Yet Potter and Weasley clearly weren't the ones to discover that the monster was a basilisk or to create those handy little coins the DA used to communicate. As much as he is loath to admit it, there's no denying that she's far cleverer than any Muggle-born should be.

If she isn't the mindless cretin his parents have always insisted Muggle-borns are, then maybe others aren't, either. And, if they aren't, then there's no reason to fight against them.

In that instant, he makes the choice. The Death Eaters are already eyeing him as a future recruit, so he can't just stay out of the war. It's a shame, but he is a part of it, now, whether he wants to or not.

But he can still choose a side.

Turning away, he makes the decision. He will talk to Potter tonight.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'curiosity'


	10. Battle

The battle raged on around them. Lights flashed like some kind of macabre fireworks display, taking instead of giving joy. Hours passed, but they continued to fight in the majestic school turned base battlefield.

Standing tall side by side, they fired off curse after curse. They might not have been shooting to kill, but they were shooting to incapacitate for a few hours. None of the people they hit would fight again that day without the counter curse, which few of them would know.

They refused to let themselves be separated by the sea of fighting. Staying together was only making them more of a target for the Death Eaters who might want to punish them for Regulus' defection, but they didn't care.

Whether they won or lost, they would do it together.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'together'


	11. Her Childhood Home

Even though he knows that everything he has been told about Muggle-borns is a lie, part of him still expects the Grangers' home to be filthy. For there to be chunks of dried mud sticking to the floor and cobwebs hanging in every room. For it to be as dreary as Grimmauld Place but ten times as dank. A sense of foreboding follows him up the driveway – neat, but then maybe it's just to keep up appearances – and past the bed of roses – well kept, admittedly – and to the front door of the small townhouse.

Hermione's hand tightens around his as he and her parents exchange pleasantries. Taking comfort from the gesture, he forces himself to focus on the fact that these are the people who raised his meticulously tidy girlfriend. She is well versed in personal hygiene, and she would have warned him if her parents weren't.

So, pushing the thoughts of dirt and poor manners from his mind, his mouth relaxes into a genuine smile. "Thank you so much for inviting me," he says again, this time with complete sincerity.

* * *

A/N: I'm home! My parents and I went camping over the weekend and, while I loved relaxing with them and with some of Dad's relatives, it's wonderful to be back again.

Prompt: 'filthy'


	12. Buying School Supplies

The familiar sight of Diagon Alley stretches out before him as they step through the bricked archway. Almost immediately, the little girl at his side tries to rush forward, but she stops at his immediate rebuke.

"Don't run off," Regulus reminds her. "You could get lost."

Sighing, she obediently returns to his side and slips her small hand into his. "I know, Daddy, but the _shops_ – "

Hermione smiles fondly as she watches them interact. She can understand the eleven-year-old's impatience. They have visited the crowded street many times over the years, and Lucy already has most of the items on her Hogwarts list, but there were certain things that they refused to buy her until she went to school. Robes, naturally, but also a wand. The talented young witch outgrew the most lenient type of training wand years ago, but neither Hermione nor Regulus wanted her to advance to a proper wand before she was old enough not to misuse it.

For weeks, though, she has been saying that the thing she most wants for her birthday is to get her Hogwarts supplies. As soon as she finished unwrapping her presents, the three set off for Diagon Alley to do just that.

"Would you like to go to Ollivander's first, sweetie?" Hermione asks as she reaches down to adjust the pink butterfly clip in her daughter's hair.

Lucy shakes her head, surprising both of them. "No. Madam Malkin's. I want to get my wand last so we can go straight home afterwards."

Regulus shoots Hermione an amused look over the top of the little girl's head. He can only imagine the havoc Lucy will unknowingly cause over the next few days as she tries all the spells she knows all over again just to see what they're like with a fully powered wand. "Alright. Let's go get your robes now, then, shall we?"

* * *

A/N: I went with the name Lucy again because I wrote this while away and so wasn't able to look up alternate astral names at the time, but it's not necessarily a carry on from the other one. Although it could be.

Prompt: 'Diagon Alley'


	13. Carefree

Her fingers brush his sides as, laughing, she tickles him relentlessly. The giggles she draws from him are so unlike his usual serious countenance that it's hard not to be mesmerised by them. He tries to throw her off, but her reflexes, honed through war, are strong, and she stays seated astride him.

"You're wicked," he manages to get out between chortles.

"I know," she replies, leaning down to kiss his nose affectionately.

"And I'll... get you back... when you least... expect it."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I won't... just try. I'll... do it."

"Yeah, yeah," she replies, stilling her hands and rolling over to lay on the bed next to him. She knows he will – he always does – but it's too much fun to tease him. After all they've both been through in their short lives, it's always a relief to just kick back and embrace something so silly and trivial and _fun_. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course. And I you."

Gently, she strokes his arm as they wait for his breathing to slow. "Maybe I'll just let you get me, th – "

She screams with surprise and laughter as his fingers drift to her sides and start to repay her.

"You know I love you, right?" he teases as he tickles her in retaliation.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'silly'


	14. Their Tale

Like Sleeping Beauty, he lies in wait for someone to disturb his slumber. His subconscious leads him through his daily duties, keeping him operational but never fully alive.

Then, suddenly, a girl breaks through the thicket of briars surrounding his castle and stumbles into his personal space. Her touch shatters the illusions and his bonds, and it awakens him, leaving him disoriented but finally truly alert. Colour rushes back in as he escapes the realm of dreams. It's blinding, but it's beautiful. It's dangerous, but it's delightful.

After his awakening, the rest of his circle of friends start to stir as well, slowly coming back into focus. They're just as mad as he is. So he strikes a deal with her, to work together to bring down the person who inflicted this upon him. She too has been wronged by the vengeful fairy, so she is quick to agree.

They thus set about teaching the world about the wonders and dangers of fairies, insisting that it is best to remain vigilant and avoid the dark side of magic. Most of the kingdom's citizens don't want to hear what they have to say, but some listen and, taking heed, further the cause as well. Over time, their tale spreads to the four corners of the land, until everyone knows it and has been changed by the experience.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'shatter'


	15. Wartime Crush

Biting her lip, she tries to think about anything other than the enigmatic man standing across from her. She hasn't felt anything as trite as a crush in a long time - war doesn't leave time for humouring feelings - but an odd warmth flares inside her as they talk and strategise.

Regulus isn't her usual type at all. In the past, she has always gravitated towards funny and athletic guys. Yet his dry wit and hatred of all things sporting just make him all the more appealing to her. Even though romantic feelings are inconvenient and unwelcome, causing more trouble than they're worth, she can't shake this fascination with him, this desire to simply be in his presence.

So, as long as it doesn't impact their dedication to their mutual cause, she doesn't see the harm of giving into it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'crush'


	16. Half-Mad

The two Ravenclaws watched as their surly Potions professor peered around before slipping into the room Karkaroff just entered. Frowning, they eyed one another before slowly moving closer. They hadn't planned on doing any sleuthing, but spontaneous eavesdropping was apparently a perk of being friends with Harry. Unfortunately, protecting oneself against amateur sleuths was apparently a perk of being a double agent, for Snape quickly cast even stronger muffling and diversion charms that had them wandering halfway down the hallway before they even realised it.

"We won't be able to get in now. We might as well head back to the tower; curfew's in ten minutes, and it's not worth being caught up after that."

Regulus nodded reluctantly. "You're right," he said as they started to sneak away, but he kept looking back over his shoulder until they were out of sight. "Karkaroff is a bad sort. Anyone who willingly seeks him out in private can't be up to anything good."

"But Professor Dumbledore trusts Snape," Hermione pointed out. "That has to mean _something_."

He scoffed. "The man's half-mad."

"Genius is sometimes confused for madness. We don't know his reasons, but that doesn't mean that they aren't valid."

"Is leaving Harry with his aunt and uncle the work of a genius?" he retorted. "Look, Hermione, I know Death Eaters. I know the sort of thing they do as part of their initiation rites, and I know the kind of things they do once they're members. Professor Snape's hands haven't been clean for a long time."

"People can change. And I trust Dumbledore," she insisted.

"A lot of people do, but everyone's fallible. Even him."

After a moment, she nodded. "We can keep an eye on him, but we can't tell Harry yet. He needs to focus on solving the egg's clue, and this would just distract him."

Regulus grinned. "And this was supposed to be an _easy_ year."

"Does such a thing even exist when Harry's involved?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'genius'

Still gutted over the news of Alan Rickman's death. It's an interesting thing, how one person can have such a lasting impact on the lives of so many people he never even met. And to think of how much more devastating it must be for his family and friends.


	17. Leaving

His skin prickles with goose bumps as he steps out into the chilly midnight air. The cold hits him like a sudden slap to the face, but his footsteps don't falter. Anything is better than going back inside again. The sound of his mother's insults continue to ring in his ear as he crosses the street and makes his way to the empty shed he usually uses as an Apparation point.

His mother never used to yell at him. At Sirius, yes, but never at him. Even when he started to question the pureblood ideology, she approached him gently, as if he were wayward but not lost. But, at some point, she must have realised that the changes he was making were irreversible, and he has since grown accustomed to the sound of her screaming at him. The first time he brought Hermione home to meet his parents, it was like a dam broke. All of the criticisms she had been holding back suddenly poured forth over the young couple with brutal force. It threatened to overwhelm them, but they dug deep and, standing tall, endured it. And life went on. No matter how much he hates her opinion, he still loves her, so he put up with it.

But, this time, she has gone too far. Threatening to publicly ruin Sirius or Hermione if Regulus doesn't take the Dark Mark crosses lines in ways that can never again be undone. Part of him yearns for her acceptance and approval, but the price she has set for it is too high. He has made the choice, come what may, to fight for freedom. This is who he is now, and, as much as he loves his parents, he refuses to abandon that for anyone.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'tall'


	18. The Dare

When he dares her to give his mother her SPEW spiel, he doesn't expect her to go through with it. Even she, with her staunch idealism, knows that there are some battles that she will never be able to win. True to form, her voice is exasperated when she calls him immature before packing up her knitting and returning to her common room for the evening, so he assumes that means they're done with it.

But she is apparently more of a Gryffindor than he has ever given her credit for. It's easy to see her academic drive and her shrewdness and assume that she is only a Gryffindor due to her bravery, but there is more to it than that. That becomes clear to him when, on the very first day of their summer holidays, she arrives at his front door and starts to lecture his mother about house-elf rights.

His mother's incredulous fury is a sight to behold, but Hermione more than holds her own against the onslaught. Her actions finally win Sirius' respect, convincing him that she is more than a rule-abiding bookworm with an unfortunate taste in friends. And the smug smirk that she sports as the door swings closed behind her sends unexpected shivers down Regulus' spine.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dare


	19. Beneath the Covers

Whispers follow them wherever they go, trailing them like a shadow. He's the pureblood gone rogue and she's the girl with too many rumoured ex-boyfriends. Each is a point of interest in their own right, but _together_...

Their classmates have a field day with their relationship, using it as fodder for all sorts of far-fetched claims and lies. But, while they can hear the buzzing, they choose to ignore it. It's like the fly in your bedroom when you're already snug beneath the covers: annoying but not worth the effort of climbing out of bed.

So, content in their relationship, they swat away the gossipers when they get too close but otherwise just huddle together and pretend they're alone.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'buzz'


	20. His Tapestry

He craves her. Like a drug, she has worked her way under his skin until he can't imagine life without her. Being with her numbs and soothes his guilt, healing and sating him like amnesia.

After leaving the Death Eaters, he was certain that his sins would be a permanent stain on his soul. No amount of bathing could have cleansed him of his crimes. But then she entered his life at the perfect moment. Absolution seemed out of his reach, but her absolute belief in the power of redemption opened his mind to the possibility. She showed him it was possible, then she stepped back and let him decide what to do about it.

He has put the pieces of his frayed life back together by himself, wanting it to finally be decided by him and him alone. But she is there, always, when it gets hard and he starts to question if it - he - will ever be whole again. Her faith in him gives him the drive to make the changes he needs to make in order to stitch the tapestry of his life back together the way he wants it.

It isn't pretty. Some stitches are too loose while others are far too tight. The embroidery is a messy, mismatched work in progress that reeks of amateurism. But it is there, and it matches his current vision for it, and he's proud of it.

And, tucked away in their little sanctuary, far removed from the outside world, he can indulge in that craving as much as he wants as he slowly but surely adds to that sprawling tapestry.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: craving


	21. The Alarm

Regulus stared unseeingly at the textbook lying in his lap. Study was important - he knew it was - but it was hard to concentrate on something as banal as school when a war was being waged around you. Things were heating up at Hogwarts, with more students fleeing to the Room of Requirement by the day to escape the Carrows' tyranny, and somewhere, far away, Hermione was on the run with Harry and Ron.

At least, he hoped she was. The Death Eaters wouldn't have been able to keep themselves from bragging had they managed to catch the trio, so he could only assume they were still alive out there, still fighting.

He had to. If they weren't, then everything would be over, forever but certainly not for good. And that was too excruciating a thought to bear thinking.

The entrance door was flung open, and a fifth year student came barrelling into the grand room. Regulus watched her intently as she, panting heavily from exhaustion, tried to gather herself together. He recognised her as one of the more vocal Death Eater sympathisers, so it was unlikely that her distress had anything to do with the Carrows' special brand of detention. But, from her crazed expression, it was clear that something major had transpired.

"He's back," she gasped out when she was composed enough to speak. "Potter's back! We're gathering in the Great Hall."

A hush settled over the Slytherin common room at her words. All around Regulus, people were staring at her in shock as they processed the information. Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts, and that meant that _the_ battle was about to begin. They were all balancing on the middle of a seesaw, but they couldn't remain like that any longer. One way or another, one side was going to crash to the ground, and it looked like that was going to happen that very night. They were either going to see the dawning of a new day or be forced to resign themselves to a life of perpetual night.

"Are Granger and Weasley with him?" Regulus asked, trying to sound nonchalant but only succeeding in sounding uncomfortable.

"Yes, _unfortunately_."

His whole body relaxed at the news. But their exchange broke the silence, and others started to fire rapid questions at her, not even leaving time for her to respond before adding another query to the ever-growing list.

"Who sent you down here?"

"What's going on?"

"Why the Great Hall?"

"What did you see?"

Ignoring the mounting din, Regulus unsheathed his wand and rushed out the door. He had to get to the Room of Requirement. He had to see for himself that his friends were alive. And he had to be ready for what he knew would be the fight of his life.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'hush'


	22. Stuff of Fairytales

Sometimes, she can hardly believe that this is real life. It's as if the letter that arrived just before her eleventh birthday were some kind of inter-dimensional portal, sucking her into the land of fairytales and filling her life with joyous magic and mortal danger alike. Up is down and down is up, with nothing being as it should be and yet everything being as it's meant to be.

But she can hardly complain. For with it came a prince to sweep her off her feet and fight by her side. He's everything she ever imagined: charming and handsome and witty and mysterious. And he's on her side, unquestionably. With him him comes the reminder that, in fairytales, the good guys always win. The heroes may go through their dark times, when they can't imagine ever making it through the fog in one piece, but they always make it out alive.

It feels fantastical, like the amalgamation of every childhood dream she ever had. But she knows that - for her, at least - this life is beautiful reality.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: reality


	23. Her Thirteenth Birthday

The knife cuts through the birthday cake like butter as Hermione smiles up at the flashing camera. It's a nice change to see her friends in the Muggle world for once. She was nervous about inviting them all – especially Regulus – over at first, but her concerns have been proven unfounded. Everyone's a little befuddled by everything even remotely Muggle, but that was only to be expected, really.

"Beautiful," her father states as he, looking up from the camera, gestures for her to continue on.

Lifting the knife back out of the cake, Hermione is preparing to make the next incision when Lavender's voice, shrill with excitement, interrupts her.

"Ooh!" the girl calls out. "Your knife came out clean! You know what that means, don't you? It means you have to kiss the nearest _boy_."

Harry, bless him, immediately cringes and shuffles away on his chair as if trying to put as much distance between him and Hermione as possible. The blushing birthday girl, however, isn't even looking at him; she only has eyes for the boy on her right, even though she's desperately trying to hide it from her friends.

"And that's Regulus!"

"Grow up, Lavender," Ginny snaps. "That's just a stupid game. Hermione doesn't have to kiss anyone she doesn't want to."

"And that's a good lesson for all of you," her father chimes in.

But Lavender is quick on his heels with, "Of course she doesn't – if she's too _scared_."

"Lavender – " Hermione starts, but she's cut off by the feeling of soft lips pressing against her cheek.

"Ignore her," Regulus whispers as he moves away again and stares blandly at Lavender. "Happy?"

The blonde witch huffs, disappointed at being denied the opportunity for drama and gossip.

"Thank you," Hermione mouths at Regulus before she continues cutting the cake.

When it gets to handing out the slices, she makes sure to give him the biggest piece.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'cut'


	24. A Schoolgirl Crush

Admiration shone in Hermione's eyes as she stared up at the young wizard.

She respected all of her professors, but there was something different about this one. Barely out of school himself, the young man was extremely mature and collected and well-read and – well, _everything_ – for his age. Her friends teased her about her love of books, and even the other professors occasionally got exasperated with her ability to recite passages from the textbook off the top of her head, but he never did.

Professor Black had a dark streak, but that just gave him an aura of adventure and edge, and he never judged Hermione for her studiousness. His only real fault, as far as she could see, was his blood prejudice, but that seemed to have all but disappeared over the two years he'd been teaching at Hogwarts. She liked to think that she'd had something to do with it, that her academic drive had proved to him that Muggle-borns could be just as bright and successful and motivated as purebloods.

Hermione knew that nothing would come of her crush – he was her _professor_ , after all – but she liked to imagine that they might, someday, in the distant future, meet again through work and fall madly in love with one another. In the meantime, she hoped against all hope that she was simply having as much of an impact on his life trajectory as he was having on hers.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'wishing'


	25. Potter Family History

Hermione scanned the collection of fading detention cards catalogued under James Potter's name with wide eyes. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea of one person accumulating so many detentions in such a short period of time, but that seemed to have been his specialty. Regulus, who had also been assigned to reorganising Filch's old office as a favour for Professor Moody, seemed equally overwhelmed by the sheer number of detention cards, although she suspected that it was for a different reason entirely.

"We should tell Harry about this," she said. "He would jump at the chance to learn more about his parents."

"His Patronus is his father. He idol worships the guy. Do you think he really wants to hear about the time he…" he started before pausing to pull out a random card from the still-to-be-sorted stack so he could read aloud, "'hexed two first years and, when asked, said it was because they were trying to study.'?"

Hermione's expression deflated like a popped balloon, going all over the place in denial and protest and frustration before eventually settling on begrudging acceptance. Sighing, she slumped down in her seat. "You're right. Harry has the right to know that his father wasn't as perfect as he thinks he was, and he would _want_ to know, but… not like this. Reading it in this much detail would destroy him. I'll go look for anything about Lily Evans. Ernie did that section, and you know how particular he gets, so it should be easy to find. Hopefully, I'll find some good news to give him there to soften the blow here."

"Yeah," Regulus replied as she got up and made her way over to the file cabinet. "Hermione?"

"What?"

"I know you're worried about the Triwizard Tournament, but… Harry's going to be okay. He always is. He got through the first task, didn't he?"

"That's _because_ I worried about him," she muttered as she set about searching under _E_.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: 'Patronus Charm'


	26. Perfect Strangers

The girl walked by at the same time every day. Regulus didn't know who she was, or where she was going, but her wild hair never failed to catch his eye. Sitting by the window to wait for her had become something of a habit for him. Each time, he told himself that he should just go out there and introduce himself. Each time, his breath caught in his throat and his muscles tensed, and he stayed inside to eat his lunch before heading back to work early.

He didn't know who the girl was. She was the perfect stranger; she passed by often enough that he'd made up a backstory for her, and yet he knew nothing about who she was or what she did. And he knew that it was going to remain that way. As curious he was about the girl with the crazy hair, that was all she would ever be to him: a random girl walking by, so close yet so far away.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: stranger


	27. Missing Him

Her fingers trail around the edge of the photo frame. The sleek black wood glistens like a disco ball in the lamplight, reminding her of the colour of his hair when wet. The photo shows the two of them on their first date, standing awkwardly in front of the Three Broomsticks. Taken by their friends, it's full of promise and hope and innocence. Neither of them had known what would become of their lives, but they'd both been ecstatic to find out. Their smiles, captured forever in that single moment, speak of pure joy.

Sometimes, nostalgia settles in, and she wishes she could go back to that time. It was so much simpler back then, just him and her against the world. Now, they're both different people, _with_ different people. She smiles and flirts and loves, but she feels that there's a part of her that will never come alive with anyone but him. And she isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

She misses the girl she used to be, but she knows that she can't ever go back. And the worst part is that, even as she does her best to find herself again, she doesn't know if she wants to.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: nostalgia


	28. Breaking the Rules

Hermione Granger could list off every school rule and their rationale with ease and never broke any of them. Not even the professors knew them as well as she did. Yet she was everything his mother had warned him against: a progressive Muggle-born activist who, according to her, was out to lead him astray with her feminine wiles. She followed every rule to the letter, even as she sought to change wizarding society's oppressive practices from the inside. For someone who was so obsessed with rules, Hermione Granger sure was good at going against every single tenet his mother had set for him. And he loved it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: rules


	29. Just Wishing

From his vantage at the edge of the ballroom, hidden away in the shadows, Ron watched the couple bitterly. They stood close together as they swayed to the music, both too caught up in one another to spare any thought for the people around them. It was like they were both lost in their own disgustingly happy little world.

He wished that he were the one out there with her. He almost had been, once upon a time. In hindsight, it would have been so easy for them to turn their relationship romantic. Just the slightest movement from either of them would have done it. But they hadn't. Instead, he had started dating Lavender in an attempt to get over her, and, with Harry being so focused on his secret lessons with Dumbledore, and Hermione had been the one to deal with Regulus when he'd changed sides in sixth year. By the time Ron had decided to take the risk of telling her about his feelings for her, it had been too late.

He was glad that Hermione was happy. Her face filled with joy whenever _he_ was mentioned, and it was impossible to begrudge her that. Their generation had, as a whole, had crappy childhoods, and happiness was a thing to be cultivated and treasured. The fact that both Hermione and Regulus seemed eager to do just that was a relief, if anything. It showed that their pasts hadn't destroyed them.

He just wished –

He just _wished_.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: bitter

I bought a kazoo yesterday while out with Mum – and then got home to find out that it was National Kazoo Day in America. Impeccable timing is impeccable.

Anyway, there isn't much direct Hermione/Regulus in this one, but I wanted try mixing things up a bit.


	30. Sleeping In

She snuggled deeper into his arms as they listened to the waves roll outside their bedroom window. The faint sunlight seeping in through the edges of the curtains cast a pale glow over their bed. Usually, she would have already been up and moving by this time, but, after the hard week she'd had at work, the simple act of having a lie in with her husband was the most appealing thing in the world. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and focused on the sound of his gentle heartbeats thumping beneath her ear, offering to lull her back to sleep. Smiling, she heeded their call.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: heartbeat


	31. No Easy Feat

Hermione exhaled slowly as she finished drafting the last of her assignments. She still had a fair bit of editing to do, but that could wait until after the mission; it was about time to start getting ready. Homework had provided a good distraction while she waited for Regulus to do his part, but her nerves instantly flared up again at the thought of leaving. Stealing the locket wouldn't be an easy feat.

Or a safe one.

Had everything gone according to schedule, Regulus should have been picking up the replacement locket they'd had commissioned at that moment. As soon as he had it, he and Kreacher were going to drop in to go through a few last minute plans with her before they all left for the sea cave. She had to believe that, between the three of them, they would be able to switch the fake with the real thing.

A pop signalled the house-elf's arrival just as she finished packing her bag of provisions. "Did you get it?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at them.

But something was very wrong. The house-elf was alone, tears running down his face as he clutched at his ears, twisting them relentlessly. The locket dangled from his left elbow, swinging around haphazardly from the force of his movements.

She dove towards him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

He let out a low keening sound, and, in that moment, she knew. "M-Master R-R-Regulus ordered me to bring this to you." The elf straightened out his arm, and she hurriedly reached out to catch the locket as it slid down the extended limb.

"Why isn't he here?" she asked, not willing to accept her suspicions until she had no other choice. "…Kreacher, _where is he_?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fake


	32. Each and Every Time

"If you had to choose between me and tea," he asked, his tone idle, as he watched her boil water for her morning cup, "which would you choose?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know; that's a hard one. As much as I love you, tea _is_ what gets me up in the morning. Besides, there are just so many varieties, so I can never get bored of it..."

In an impeccable display of class and decorum, he tossed a bread roll right at her, sending her into a fit of giggles as she ducked out of the way. "Are you saying I'm less interesting than a common beverage?"

"When I first wake up, maybe..." Sobering up, she added, "But, no, Regulus, you know I would choose you without a second thought. Each and every time."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: tea


	33. Atoning

Some days, it feels like he'll never be able to atone for all of the mistakes he's made. They're the stain on his soul, the blood that won't wash off his hands, the shadow hanging over his head. No matter what he does, they just won't leave him be.

He knows that they, Gryffindors all, don't see him that way. For them, anger is a thing that burns as hot as the sun but dies as quickly as a candle. Forgiveness comes naturally to them, and they seem to have turned that en masse to him. It's sweet, really. Sweet and naive and touching.

But that doesn't change the fact that he did those things, those terrible things, and that no amount of penance will take them back. It doesn't take away the nightmares that grip him at night, nightmares of cold bodies and red eyes and endless darkness. It doesn't relieve him of the stabbing guilt.

They give him a reprieve, but they can't take it away; only he can do that. And he still doesn't know _how_.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: mistakes


	34. Better Than Fiction

It isn't anything like she's read in books. Fiction can only go so far, only show so much. This – what she has with him – is so much better than second-hand love. It's spectacular, shining with a brilliance that even the best of stories could never emulate. She feels like she's soaring every time she sees him, and it's beautiful and heady and oh so addicting. She can't imagine ever coming down from this perfect high. And she doesn't ever want to. She knows that the honeymoon period won't last forever, but she doesn't care. They will welcome in the next stage of their relationship together when the time arises. Until then, they will hold onto this bliss for as long as they can.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: books


	35. Far From Over

"Do you believe in fate?" Hermione asked, dropping her bag on the ground as she slumped into the chair next to him.

"You're thinking about the prophecy again," Regulus guessed, pushing his own work aside to scrutinise her. She still seemed a little shaken from the fight, but her face looked pain-free. Hopefully, that meant her wound was healing well. "Look, prophecies are almost always self-fulfilling. If you don't know there is one, or what it's about, then it's not going to matter. It's only when you start basing your decisions around it that it becomes important. The orb broke, so no one's ever going to hear it, and it's not going to matter what it prophesied."

"About that," she started, and his expression clouded as he realised where she was going with it. "Voldemort heard the first half of it, and the Headmaster was the one it was, er, presented to in the first place, so he knows all of it. And so does Harry."

"They'll all be acting on it, then."

"I think both sides already have been."

He sighed. "Then let's just hope the prophecy is about Harry winning. It's possible to escape a prophecy once you've heard it, but it's extremely rare."

She wanted to tell him the specifics of the prophecy. Harry was in mourning, and Ron was only willing to put up with dissecting the same piece of information so many times before he got crabby about it, so it would be nice to have someone new to analyse it with. But she knew she couldn't. Harry had told them they weren't to tell _anyone_ , and they'd known that the comment was about Regulus and Ginny in particular. So she settled for a simple, "That means the war is far from over."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fate


	36. The Other Side

Turning to face the final two spectres, Harry inhaled slowly, steeling himself. But nothing could prepare him for the sight of their semi-transparent faces. He hadn't even had the chance to process their deaths, to accept that they weren't ever coming back, yet there they were. "I am so sorry. It's all my fault. If it weren't for me – "

"Then I would have died a long time ago," Hermione interrupted. "The troll would have killed me, or the basilisk would have. Don't you ever doubt that you enriched my life, Harry Potter."

Regulus nodded, his face solemn. "The blame is on Voldemort, not on you."

"I – I'm the final Horcrux. I need to die. To sacrifice myself. If I don't…"

Expressions of pain rippled across the faces of those surrounding him.

"I'm terrified," Harry admitted. "Dying… You do it alone. None of you can come with me."

"Honey," his mother said, clenching her hands together as if she wanted to reach out for him but couldn't, "that's because we're waiting on the other side."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: alone

If you haven't watched Green Gables Fables, you should absolutely check it out. Everything about it is so on point. I won't say _why_ writing this reminded me of the series, because that would involve spoilers, but it really is excellent.


	37. The Discovery

A/N: AU in which the Death Eaters were one of a number of much smaller, much more short-lived organisations. People know about them, and there's still widespread prejudice and discrimination, but there wasn't a war.

* * *

Horror gripped her at the sight of the Death Eater paraphernalia that almost spilled out of the box. Regulus had been in a hate group? He'd wanted Muggle-borns like her to be cast out like vermin? She knew that he didn't believe in the myth of blood purity anymore, but it was gut wrenching to know that the man she loved had once been involved with, or at least looked up to, such a despicable cause. It hardly even merited being _called_ a cause; that word gave it a sense of legitimacy that it didn't deserve.

Logically, Hermione knew she should talk to him about it. It wouldn't be fair to walk away from their relationship without giving him a chance to explain things first. But it was hard to imagine looking him in the face, let alone listening to him try to justify bigotry and extremism. And what if she was wrong about him? What if he _did_ still believe that rubbish and was just using her to convince the more progressive sections of society that he was a worthy choice for Minister of Magic? If that were the case, confronting him could very well turn herself into a liability.

She knew that her panicked mind was just throwing out the worst case scenario. The chances were that Regulus had walked away from the so-called Death Eaters years before he met her, and that he had simply forgotten to get rid of the storage box he'd stuffed his old gear in.

Still, she couldn't shake the fear that, just maybe, he had deceived her. And, even if he hadn't, the fact that he had once aligned himself with the group was overwhelming in and of itself.

 _I'll talk to_ _him_ , she decided, _but not now. First, I need space. I'm sure Neville won't mind me staying with him for a day or two while I process things. I'll leave Regulus a note so he doesn't worry, but we can hold off discussing it until my head has cleared._

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the angst. I'm trying to vary things up so this isn't just 366 drabbles of love metaphors and fluff, but the downside of that is heavier drabbles.

Prompt: space


	38. Confidence

"Why do they hate me so much?" Hermione whispered to her best friend as they watched the group of older Slytherins walk by. "I understand the blood issue, even though it's complete bollocks, but they seem to hate me even more than the other Muggle-borns. And I don't understand _why_."

Tilting his head to look at her, Regulus for her to meet his gaze before replying. "It's because you believe in yourself," he said simply. "The others… The other Muggle-borns are cowed by them, and they feed off that. But you're determined to prove your abilities at every turn, and you never let them intimidate you into giving up. They hate you because they can't beat you."

Pursing her lips, she nodded thoughtfully, mulling his words over in her head. It made sense, even if it didn't help her in the slightest. If she wanted to avoid their ire, she would have to let them win. There was no way she would ever let _that_ happen, so she would just have to continue to put up with being their main target for bullying. "Well," she replied, confidence beginning to seep into her voice once more, "I'll just have to keep proving them wrong, then, won't I?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: believe


	39. Special

Hermione sighed as she flicked through the proposal she'd just finished putting together for a local homeless shelter. A lot of work had gone into the application, but she knew that the council would probably just reject it again. There was, or so they would say, simply not a place for it in the annual budget.

If only magic were real. Then, she would be able to conjure up the resources herself instead of having to rely on the whims of rich, stodgy bureaucrats. She wasn't one to shy away from hard work, but the idea of being able to fast track things with magic was certainly appealing.

A shrill cry interrupted her musings. Setting her paperwork aside, she rushed upstairs to check on the children. To her relief, they both seemed to be fine at first glance. Diana sat in her crib, wailing like some kind of banshee but clearly unhurt, as she watched her older brother play with their father's stethoscope. Gilbert was sitting cross-legged on the floor as he checked their toys' heartbeats. They walked up to him, then he checked on them and wrote some notes on his leg with his finger, then they walked on –

 _Walked_?

"Gil," she said, struggling to keep the alarm out of her voice as she inched towards the crib, "stand up right now and walk over to the door for me, alright? Everything's okay, but we're going to go play in the park for a little while. Doesn't that sound fun?"

The toys fell to the floor as the five-year-old looked up at her, startled by her obvious distress. "Mummy? Why – "

"It's a lovely day, and I'm sure your sister would rather spend it outside." Scooping the infant up into her arms, she started to make her way back towards the open door. " _Now,_ Gilbert."

x-x-x

"Magic," Regulus repeated, staring at the grey-haired woman with naked incredulity. "You're telling me that my son has _magic_."

"Precisely. How many times have you seen him do things that simply shouldn't be possible? You might have told yourself you were seeing things, but I can assure you that you weren't. Magic is real, and Hogwarts can teach Gilbert how to control it."

Hermione glanced down the hallway to their son's room. Since the time she first saw his toys march across his bedroom floor by themselves, there had been numerous occasions where he – and, later, his sister – had done things that just didn't make sense. She and Regulus had tried to rationalise it away, but they had always known that it wasn't natural. In a way, it was a relief to learn that it wasn't unheard of, that there were other children out there that were just like theirs. But _magic_ … "We've always known our children are special," she started, but she quickly trailed off.

"Every child is special," Minerva McGonagall replied. "Your children are much more than that."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: accidental magic


	40. Making Up

The shouting gave way to a silence that settled between them like a heavy weight. Hermione stared blankly at the book in her lap, wanting to appear unfazed but unable to concentrate on anything except the fight. It had been brutal, with both parties using their words like knives called upon to wound and scar. Her throat felt hoarse from all the yelling. How could they face one another again after all that had been said?

The very act of speaking seemed impossible, but she forced out, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - "

"It's my fault," he jumped in, almost as if her words had broken the suction holding the weight down, allowing him to speak as well. " _I'm_ sorry. You... You were right; I was being overbearing. It wasn't my place."

Her lips quirked up in a half-hearted attempt at amusement. "I know I was. But that doesn't excuse some of the things I said."

"I said some particularly nasty things as well." After a quiet moment of mutual reflection, he added, "Let's just put this behind us and move on. I don't like arguing with you; it feels unnatural."

"That sounds like a plan." Setting the book aside, she shuffled over until she sat beside him, her head resting on his arm.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: shout


	41. Pen Pals

Sliding open her bottom desk drawer, Hermione pulled out the stack of letters from her pen pal and selected one at random to read through. His intricate handwriting covered the page in neat lines that spoke of his privileged upbringing. She hadn't expected the school-directed program to be of any use to her, but Regulus had turned out to be much more interesting than she'd expected.

His life was so different to hers that it boggled her mind to think about it. The Grangers were well off, enough so that her parents were able to donate regularly to a variety of charities and fundraisers, but the Blacks were another thing entirely. Regulus' life seemed to be a tale right out of the pages of a storybook, filled with riches and glamour and endless spectacle.

The idea of living such a wasteful life felt dirty to her, but his tales of extravagance and privilege never failed to captivate her. They gave her insight into a life she didn't want yet couldn't seem to shake the allure of. She wasn't sure whether it was because she wanted to understand the miniature of such a foreign way of living, or because reading about his family's idleness made her feel better about herself, or because of the wry yet blinkered way he recounted all of those things to her. Regardless of what it was, each and every one of his letters sucked her in like nothing else could.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: letters


	42. Nerves

Two rows of brooms stretched out before the class of wide-eyed first years. Hermione shuffled from foot to foot, unable to keep still. Most of her classmates were eager to start their first flying lesson, but her feelings were much more ambiguous. Part of her was excited at the idea of learning something so stereotypically _magical_ , but the idea of actually soaring through the air terrified her. It wasn't like Muggle school sports, where the worst thing that could happen was getting embarrassed or twisting an ankle. The stakes were infinitely higher, and messing up could literally mean death.

"Scared?" Regulus asked, keeping his voice quiet so no one else could hear him.

Too caught up in her fear to worry about keeping it secret, she nodded. "Flying is dangerous. If you lean even just a little too far to the side, you can fall off and _die_. How can they teach something like that in a school?"

"We won't be going up high enough for that," he reassured her. "Besides, wizards and witches are stronger – _sturdier_ – than Muggles. A fall that might kill a Muggle would only break a few bones for a witch. And Madam Pomfrey can regrow them all overnight without any fuss."

"I…" Not wanting to admit weakness, but needing his support more than her pride, she asked, "Can you stay with me? Don't fly ahead?"

"Not even an inch," he promised, and he proceeded to keep to that vow all lesson.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: flying lesson


	43. Deepest Desire

The mirror dominates the room. Even though it's tucked away in a dark corner of a room filled with magical objects, something about it draws Hermione's gaze almost immediately. As she approaches the priceless artefact, her heart starts to race in excitement. Although she has never seen it before, she recognises it instantly from Harry's description alone. Burning with curiosity, she starts to move forward to stand in front of –

Her footsteps falter. The mirror holds powerful magic. Does she really want to see her deepest desires reflected back at her? She thinks she knows herself, but there's always the possibility that it will show her something that she never knew she wanted. Is she ready for that?

Will she be able to walk away from it afterwards?

It's tempting to just turn around and go back to cataloguing the contents of the room, but, deep down, she knows that she could never let this opportunity pass her by.

Taking one last step, she turns and stares into the illusion's depths.

Thirty seconds later, she smiles and steps away. The diamond ring adorning her left hand sparkles in the light as she absentmindedly plays with it. She was right after all; the mirror had nothing new to show her.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: reflection

Happy Valentine's Day!


	44. When Time Stops

The crystal blue sky stretched out endlessly above them, totally devoid of clouds. All Regulus could see was blue, and all he could hear was silence. It felt truly timeless, as if they were in some kind of pocket dimension that was theirs alone to savour and enjoy.

Tightening his grip on Hermione's hand, he slowly closed his eyes, letting himself focus on the moment itself; nothing more, nothing less. The sweet scent of apples drifted over from the neighbouring orchard, making his nose tingle pleasantly. The sun bathed his skin in warmth. The picnic blanket beneath him was soft against the his neck and arms. And the hand in his was his anchor.

"I could stay here forever," he told her. "For forever and a day."

Mirth coloured her voice as she replied, "Could I stay here with you?"

Regulus knew Hermione thought he could get too theatrical at times. It was, for better or for worse, a common trait in his family, and it was one that he'd long since come to terms with. Fortunately for him, she usually viewed it with fond amusement. _She's perfect for me._ Smiling up at the cloudless sky, he assured her, "Stopping time wouldn't be worth it if you weren't here beside me."

"Huh?" she asked, shifting in place until she was facing him, her arm propping her head up off the blanket.

"It feels like time stops whenever we come here," he explained, "but I wouldn't want to experience this without you."

"You won't ever have to."

"Promise?"

She watched him intently; after everything they had been through, she didn't make oaths lightly. There was too much of a risk that someone or something would secretly make it magically binding in an act of revenge. Nevertheless, only a few moments passed before she emphatically swore, "I promise."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: apple


	45. Superior

The little kids marched through the large oak doors and up the aisle of the Great Hall. Hermione couldn't make out their faces from such a distance, but she knew from experience that their expressions would range from excited to overwhelmed to terrified. Fixing a soft smile upon her face, she tried to look as welcoming as possible. None of those children would regret being sorted into Gryffindor; she'd make sure of it.

"Granger," an irritatingly smooth voice whispered from beside her, "I bet I'll get more first years than you do."

She shot Black a look of disgust. They might be professors together, but that didn't mean she had to like him. It felt like he went out of his way to annoy her, even when he had no discernible reason to do so, and her patience was starting to wear thin.

Instead of squabbling in front of the newcomers, she turned an icy smile to him and said, as cheerfully as she could manage, "My apologies, but I don't like to bet with known cheats. I fully expect Gryffindor to 'win', but I'm hardly going to put money down against you."

Ignoring his objections, she turned back to face the students once more. Regulus Black might not be worth her time, but she looked forward to Gryffindor proving that they were the superior house by winning the House Cup for the fifth year in a row.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: little


	46. Go On Living

The rising sun cast a hopeful glow over the castle, but Hermione wasn't feeling it. After everything that had transpired on the grounds that night, she knew it would be a long time before she felt happy again. Sadness had worked its way so deeply into her bones that she didn't know if she would ever get every trace of it out.

How could they, after everything, just return to life as normal? What _was_ normal? Her nearest and dearest – Harry, Ron, Ginny, _Regulus_ – had all survived, but so many had been lost over the course of the war. Lupin and Tonks and Fred and Colin... How could the survivors move forward with the knowledge that so many others never would?

They had to. They owed it to themselves, and to the fallen, to continue to live. But, staring at the crumbling castle at the other side of the spell-marked grounds, she had no idea how to start.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: sadness


	47. Her Fire, His Ice

At her core, she's fire, a burning, passionate flame that many have tried and failed to snuff out. Adversity just adds oxygen to the blaze, feeding it until it's a raging inferno that could subsume forests without a second thought. Whatever she throws herself into, she does it with an intensity that would make anyone nervous. Nobody can stop her when it comes to something she cares about.

Regulus? He's ice, frozen and cold and biting. It's almost impossible to chip away at his heart when it's surrounded by such harsh protection, and he can send shivers of terror through his enemies with as much as a look. His cold calculations ensure that the job gets done each and every time, no matter what it is. But he is no match for her. He cannot touch her blazing core, yet she can melt his with proximity alone. His walls fail whenever she's around, only solidifying again once her heat is gone.

On one level, it terrifies him, knowing how utterly hopeless he is against her; on another, it's thrilling. She can get inside him like no one else can, until he's burning up with love and desire at the sight of her watching him more intently than she ever does anything else. And that, somehow, makes it all alright, for he knows that he isn't the only one whose self-control she's burning through like kindling. If he has to be completely disarmed whenever they're together, then at least she is, too.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fire


	48. The Prisoner

Hermione's expression is inscrutable as she enters the small, dank room. Dirt coats the floors and walls, and it is completely empty except for the single bed sitting against the far wall. The prisoner sits cross-legged on his bed, magically confined there for the duration of her visit. The decision to hold him in such subpar conditions was a contentious one, but the Order all agreed that it was the best way of getting the information they need. They refuse to sink to their enemies' level by dealing in murder and torture, but they won't win this war if their main focus is on keeping their hands clean.

Staring out at him from the shadows, she draws on every noir film she has seen in order to make herself look as intimidating as possible.

"You're the tenth person they've sent down to talk to me," Regulus Black points out. "What makes you think you'll be more successful than they were?"

"I'm different."

He scoffs. "Why, yes, it's a brilliant tactical decision to send a Muggle-born down instead of a pureblood. I'm _much_ more likely to disclose all of my secrets to you."

"They didn't send me down because I'm a Muggle-born. In fact, they didn't send me," she lies. "No one else knows I'm down here... nor will they."

She can see the first hint of apprehension in his eyes, but he forces out a fake laugh and replies, "You aren't going to hurt me. Your lot won't kill an enemy soldier on the battlefield; you'd never execute a prisoner in cold blood. So, forgive me, I don't see much point in talking."

"But, as you've already pointed out, I'm not exactly like the others, am I?" Pulling a small black crystal out of her pocket and casually twirling it between her fingers, she adds, "Why on Earth would you think my methods would be the same? Do you know how Muggles get people to talk, Black?"

The apprehension has twisted into genuine trepidation as he watches her hands uneasily.

She smirks. Once she has all the information they need and the war is over, she will so enjoy telling him how easily she played him. "Tell me everything you know about the Horcruxes, and you'll never have to find out."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: shadow

Okay, this got a _lot_ darker than I meant it to. I just finished watching season 6 of _Buffy_ with Dad (rewatching in my case), and, ah, the mood kind of seeped into this in a major way.


	49. Stood Up

Hermione took another sip of wine as she waited for her bread to arrive. The waitress had been especially kind to her once she'd realised that the patron's date had cancelled at the last minute, but the young witch was determined not to care. Although being stood up hurt, she wasn't going to let it ruin a good meal. Besides, given how distant Geoff had been lately, spending the evening by herself might actually be an improvement.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous, but is this seat taken?"

She looked up in surprise. "Reg, what are you doing here?"

Her best friend wore what, for him, passed as casual clothes, but his quiet confidence made it feel like he belonged there just as much as the fancily clad clientele. His concerned gaze swept across her face before easing as he realised that she didn't look upset. "I came to let you… Hermione, I saw Geoffrey at the markets a few minutes ago. I don't think he's – "

"I know he's not coming. He sent his apologies via Patronus about half an hour after he was due to meet me here."

"Ah. Well, after I saw him, I Apparated to your flat to check on you. When you weren't there, I realised you might not know yet."

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll mourn our relationship tonight, but for now… It seems a shame not to enjoy dinner after getting all dressed up for it."

"Would you like some company? I'm not really dressed for it, but – "

She grinned. "You? Always."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: presumptuous


	50. Puzzles

He is, at his core, a puzzle that she cannot crack. No matter how many layers she teases out, there always seems to be another side to him that she hasn't seen before. It's what made him such a fascinating boyfriend, but it also renders him an unpredictable adversary. She never knows what he will throw at them yet, just that they can't take anything at face value lest it turn out to be a lethal trap.

"I can't believe you dated this guy," Ron will chime in every now and again, not understanding that it's the last thing she needs to hear.

"Neither can I," she'll lie as she keeps them moving towards their goals despite secretly remembering how wonderful things used to be between them and how much she wishes they could go back to being like that again.

He is a puzzle, but she _will_ crack him. She will find out why he left and do her best to redeem him, all while fighting alongside her friends to save the world.

Because Hermione is good at puzzles.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: puzzle


	51. A Thought Experiment

"There's still hope," Hermione insisted as she strode relentlessly around the boys' dormitory. Most of the Gryffindor sixth years were having a game of Quidditch down at the pitch, but she and Harry had stayed behind to discuss Regulus' recent defection. "No one's all bad; there has to be some good left in him. If I had enough time alone with him, I'm sure I could sway him."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, wishing that Tom Riddle had chosen to do literally anything else with his life so that their generation didn't have to grow up divided by war. "I'm sure you could, eventually. But we don't have that sort of time. We need to focus on finding out as much as we can about these Horcruxes."

"I've already looked through everything in the Restricted Section," she pointed out. "There's nothing more I can do about that until our next Hogsmeade trip, and, even then, finding a book about Horcruxes there will be a long shot. Even just looking at it from a purely objective standpoint, having Regulus on our side again would be a great asset."

He nodded, but his thoughts were far away. "If you had to choose between saving Regulus and winning this war," he asked, his voice carefully neutral, "which would you choose? What if he was protecting a Horcrux with his life?"

"Do you even have to ask?" When he didn't respond, she sighed and continued, "Harry, I care about Regulus, but of course I would choose our cause over him. As much as I want to bring him back, he's the only one who can pick which side he wants to be on. If he chooses to stay with them…"

"It's just… I don't know what I'd choose," Harry admitted. "If it were between Ginny and the end of the war, that is. I'm worried I… I'm worried I'd choose her, but I'm also scared I wouldn't."

She finally stopped pacing, instead turning to face him. "That's alright, too," she reassured him. "At the end of the day, neither of us will ever really know what we would choose unless we have to make that decision. All we can do until then is try our best to make sure we'll never to make those decisions."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: hope

I'm back at uni! Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, though, considering how horrid the weather is at the moment.


	52. Flitting

At first, she thinks he's much more social than she is. While she likes to snuggle into an armchair with a thick book and waste her day away within its pages, he prefers to flit around the room like a butterfly endlessly looking for a place to rest its tired wings, feeling out what the people in it are like before settling down with one or another of the more interesting conversationalists. The tendency irks her; it's like he's always on the lookout for something better, like he won't ever be content with what he already has. If he can't settle down socially, how will she ever be sure that he will do so romantically?

It takes some time for her to realise that that's not the case. It's not that he's unable to settle and compromise, but rather that his parents ingrained the art of socialising in both of their sons until it's like second nature to them. Slowly, the quintessentially Slytherin trait moves from something that unnerves her to something she's grateful for. When he's doing his rounds of the room, he's charismatic and gracious and utterly masked. It's when he's with her that he drops that façade, feeling free to be sweet and exasperated and all manner of emotions in between. She isn't his for-now; she's his always.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: social

First week back at uni, and the exhaustion has already hit me like a sledgehammer. Today has been a lovely reprieve, though. I had the day off, so I had lunch out with my brother before dropping in on my grandmother and then tidying up this drabble. Now it's time to see if I can rope someone into going swimming with me.


	53. The Mess of Love

Love is messy. It hurts and it breaks and it falls to pieces, taking everything crashing down with it. When it goes bad, it makes it seem like life isn't worth it anymore because nothing will ever feel the same again.

She has had her run of bad dates and boyfriends. Viktor, who was lovely but too old for her at the time. Cormac, who was too handsy and egotistical. Ron, who was sweet but utterly oblivious when it came to girls. Seamus, who was more of a misjudged oh-my-gosh-we-both-survived-the-war fling than anything else. Terry, who was her attempt at seeing whether maybe it was just Gryffindor boys who were the problem. (It wasn't.) Anthony, who broke her heart without even meaning to.

After everything she's been through, she's convinced that it will never get better. She decides that it must be her, not them, who is at fault. She accepts that she will never find someone to spend the rest of her life with.

But then she finds _him_. It's not love at first sight, but Regulus takes her breath away the moment they meet. He's charming and interesting and funny, and he's as enamoured with her as she is with him. They're swept up in a whirlwind of romance, and, before long, she's his and he's hers. Life is complicated, because love is still just as messy as ever, but the knowledge that this – _them, each other_ – is worth it pulls them through. At the end of the day, it's simple, because they want to be together no matter what.

Love hurts and breaks and shatters when it's at its worst, but it heals and builds and fixes when it's at its best. In him, she finds the latter. With him, the past falls away. To him, she gives her heart, because she knows he'll always keep it safe.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: messy

A good friend of mine is going through a really tough time at the moment, so this is for her. Because yesterday and today and tomorrow feel like crap, but one day it won't. And because he's the one who wasn't worth it.


	54. The Risk

Dating Regulus is a risk that Hermione isn't sure she wants to take. Her best – _only_ – friend seems perfect for her, but she knows that that doesn't guarantee long term compatibility. It's like Schrodinger's Cat; relationships either crash or soar, and she won't know which way this one will go until they open the box and let everything play out. So long as they don't act on their feelings, the idea of them as a couple is both beautiful and melancholic, everlasting and non-existent. The line is a difficult one to walk, prolonging both the pain and the hope. She isn't used to taking the safe route, but the part of her that is terrified of losing her friend – and she's not yet sure how large that part is – would rather hold onto the bittersweet idea that he might be 'the one' if only she took a chance than risk it all on a pipe dream.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: box


	55. Decisions

"He's a tyrannical maniac," Hermione pointed out, staring at the grey stone ceiling as she absentmindedly fiddled with her green school tie. "How could you even think of willingly aligning yourself with someone like him?"

Regulus triple-checked the privacy charms they'd set up around the boys' dormitory. Their housemates would most likely steer far clear of them, assuming that the couple were using the space to fool around, but it didn't hurt to be safe. "What other choice do I have? He has his eye on my family, Hermione. My only options are to join him or to go into hiding, and we have no hope of outrunning him. The manor has enough protection to keep _him_ out, but the ancient wards will allow any trueborn Black to enter at will. My dear cousin is crazy enough and powerful enough to slip in and take us all out if he asks her to, and we both know that he will."

She frowned, unable to accept the idea that joining the self-styled Death Eaters was his only recourse. "What if you leave the manor and go into hiding somewhere she can't follow you? Or if you go to Dumbledore and ask for his protection? There are rumours that Evans' parents went underground shortly after she joined that little group of his."

"My mother will never agree to leave the ancestral home, and do you really think _their_ side would take me in? Dumbledore would 'request' that I become a spy in a way that brooks no disagreement, and his little cronies would just continue to hex me for being a Slytherin."

As much as she wanted to find another way, she knew that he was right. His father could probably be convinced to move, but Walburga Black would insist on standing their ground proudly until the end. And, for all that she thought that Dumbledore's side had the right idea of it when it came to the war, the Gryffindors would never let go of their petty hatred for all things Slytherin. "Try to hold off for as long as you can," she told him. "Buy me some time in case I can come up with an alternative. If I can't, then I'll stand beside you the whole way."

"Really?" he questioned, uncertainty lurking in his eyes. "Even though he's a tyrannical maniac?"

"They're the ones who have made their side so unappealing that someone who doesn't want anything to do with the war would rather side with a tyrannical maniac than them. If joining the Death Eaters is the only way you'll get through this ordeal alive, then so be it. We owe no loyalty to people who have done nothing but kick us down for the last six and a half years."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: tyrant


	56. The Memorial

"We will never forget those who have fallen for the cause that we all believe in," McGonagall pledged as she looked over the gathered mourners. "As we continue to live our lives, we will remember that they never will."

Regulus' hand reached down to hold Hermione's as he realised how close he had come to losing her. If even just one of her escapades with her friends had gone wrong, she would have been lost to him forever. "I love you."

"You, too," she whispered back shakily, either unable or unwilling to tear her gaze from the memorial. While the deceased were all his comrades, they had been her friends for years before the war had broken out. When he thought about their lives, he remembered brave and hardened soldiers, but he knew that she was instead picturing the little children they'd all once been, smiling and fresh-faced and completely oblivious to the troubles that lay ahead of them.

"But, at the end of the day," McGonagall continued, "the best thing we can do for them is to continue living. They laid down their lives for the hope of the future. Honour them by appreciating what they lived and died for."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: forget


	57. Gone

There are times when she'll forget that he's gone. She'll wake up to the hope of a good day and instinctively roll over to cuddle into him. But then the illusion invariably shatters like tinted glass, splintering into shards around her as the blinding truth it was concealing glares through at her. Squinting in pain as the memories come rushing back, she has to once again accept the fact that her husband of fifty years has gone where she can't yet follow. While she treasures the peace that comes in those rare moments of ignorance, the remembering is always worse because of them.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: illusion

Sorry for the recent influx of melancholy.


	58. Posthumous

Kingsley stared at her in utter bewilderment. "You want me to publicly exonerate Regulus Black? He was a confirmed Death Eater, Hermione. The _Daily Prophet_ will shoot me down the instant I suggest it, Minister for Magic or not."

"I'm not saying you should deny his past; I'm saying you should let the public know the extent of his involvement in the war. He died trying to bring Voldemort down," she insisted, leaning forward to rest her hands on his desk. "He might not have been a typical hero, but he wasn't a villain, either."

"And when they ask for proof?"

"Harry still has the letter Regulus left for Voldemort… except that mentions finding Voldemort's Horcrux."

"I informed the current Head Unspeakable of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Given her political clout and vow of silence – "

"But we all promised not to tell anyone else," she protested. "If the Head Unspeakable knows…"

"She has no interest in discussing the workings of the Department of Mysteries with the press," he reminded her. "It might assist their research, and it's important that the knowledge is retained in case another Dark Lord attempts to go the same route. But she has archived the information in the depths of the department so that only future Head Unspeakables will ever be able to access it. It is still secure."

"Then you could show her the letter and have her corroborate our claims," Hermione continued, continuing his earlier train of thought. "The press would demand evidence from me, or even from you, but they would accept that she is unable to reveal her source."

"Precisely. While you collect the letter from Harry, I will ask my staff to start drafting the announcement speech."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: villain


	59. Secrets

Holding her backpack straps to keep it from wobbling, Hermione rushes up the staircase to the seventh floor, trying to get back to the common room before Harry or Ron can catch up with her. Ever since she refused to talk about her study dates with Regulus, they've been doing their best to pester her into telling them what they talk about. Fortunately, they haven't yet reached the point of bringing it up while other people are around, so she has started to stick to highly frequented areas as much as possible. _Un_ fortunately, they've caught onto the fact that she's avoiding them, and she knows it won't be long until they resort to using the Marauders' Map to catch her between classes.

A familiar voice calls out her name, and she winces in frustration before smiling broadly as she turns to face her best friends.

"Hermione! We've been looking everywhere for you," Harry greets her. "It feels like we haven't spent time together, just hanging out by ourselves, in weeks."

"Well, you know how I get around exam period," she jokes. "It never feels like there are enough hours in the day. I'm heading back to the common room to study some more. You could always join me."

Ron lets out a frustrated groan before interjecting, "Are we really going to keep doing this? Hermione, we know you've been keeping secrets from us."

"Ron, we weren't going to do this like – "

"I'm not keeping them _from you_ , I'm keeping them _for him_. It has nothing to do with either of you. It's just some stuff that he has going on at the moment. Besides, you've both kept secrets before: Harry's crush on Cho, your secret desire to play Quidditch, how often Harry's scar was hurting him. It's no big deal."

"'Just some stuff,'" Ron scoffs. "Does it really matter _why_ you're keeping it a secret? The point is that Malfoy's up to something, yet here you are, hiding things for Black. How are we supposed to work out what's going on if you won't talk to us?"

"What Regulus and I talk about is in no way relevant to the situation with Malfoy. If you can't understand that, then it might be better if we _don't_ 'just hang out by ourselves' for a while."

"Hermione, that's not what we're saying," Harry intervenes. "If it bothers you that much – "

"So you're choosing him over us?"

"I'm choosing the person who isn't asking me to choose. Harry, I'm more than happy to try to have this conversation with you again some other time. For now, though, I would really appreciate it if you both left me alone. Whatever you might think, _Ronald_ , I really do have to study."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: secret


	60. Halloween

A/N: Warning: mild spoilers for the first season of _Buffy_.

* * *

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Regulus laments as they walk up the driveway to her cousin's house. Headstones and cauldrons imbue the front yard with an aura of unrest, and the faint sound of a male singer crooning about something that sounds like killers – or thrillers – wafts over to them.

"You're the one who promised Beatrix we'd come tonight."

"Your cousin didn't mention anything about dressing up."

Hermione can't help but laugh at his sulkiness. "That's because she assumed you already knew about it. It's kind of traditional. Besides, you look good. The coat suits you."

Already feeling weary, he asks, "Run me through who we are, again?"

"You're Angel, a once-sadistic vampire who was cursed with a soul and is now eternally seeking atonement. And I'm Buffy, a sassy young vampire slayer with a habit of saving the world."

"And everyone else will be in costume as well?"

" _Yes_. Seriously, Regulus, you don't need to feel self-conscious about this. Bea and her friends really get into Halloween, so we're going to fit right in. And, if worse comes to worst, we can just sit in a corner eating candy together."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: candy

Kudos to Leonardo DiCaprio for winning an Oscar, and for his incredible acceptance speech.


	61. The Yule Ball

Their feet glided across the dance floor like swans taking flight. Laughing at Regulus' impersonation of his wild brother, Hermione leaned further into the Slytherin's embrace. An unexpected warmth rushed through her at his proximity, and she knew that, if she ever tried to cast the Patronus Charm, this would be the memory she would use.

The thought sobered her. Her admiration for her friend had been growing over the course of the year, but she hadn't realised quite how far it had gotten until that very moment.

For the rest of the dance, she fought the urge to mull over the situation in her mind. Letting herself get lost in thoughts she wasn't ready for him to be privy to would only serve to make things awkward when he inevitably asked what she was thinking about. Instead, she smiled and joked and pretended she hadn't just realised she was falling for one of her closest friends.

When the slow ballad drew to a close, Hermione gave him a tentative smile and took a step back. "We should get back to our dates," she said, even though she would have preferred to spend the rest of the evening with him instead. If only she had worked out her feelings for him earlier. If she had, she would've asked him to the ball, and they _could_ have danced the night away together. But she hadn't, so honour and loyalty had her retreating before they went too far.

"We really should," he agreed, and she took consolation in the knowledge that he didn't seem thrilled by the idea either.

"We'll talk later, though?"

"Definitely."

With a nod, she retreated back to where Viktor was doing his best to engage an apathetic Harry and Ron in conversation. It wouldn't be fair on him to ditch him halfway through the dance, especially when they _had_ been having such a nice evening together, but they would have to have a serious talk about their relationship in the coming days. And only then, when they had resolved things between them, would she approach Regulus about her growing feelings for him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: ballad

I haven't had the chance to write much since uni went back, but I'm hoping to find the time to catch up a little over the next few weeks.


	62. New Recruits

Hermione surveyed the three recruits. Ever since the discrimination scandal the year prior, resulting in the immediate culling of everyone even remotely implicated, the law firm had been scrambling to find qualified new employees. After having been blindsided before, however, she had been adamant that she would meet them in person before they were released into the workplace. Anyone who gave off the vibe that they too wanted to use their position to secretly sabotage the company's goals would be staying in that room until they'd either assuaged her concerns or been escorted right back out of the building.

"Never forget that our work here is important," she continued, keeping a close eye on their reactions. "When we fail, people suffer. If you have to choose between presenting a sorry excuse for a case on time and requesting a deferral so you can do it right, always choose to make the request. I would rather win a dozen cases than win twenty but lose a hundred, because _each case affects lives_. My friends call our approach here obsessive; I call it passionate. Frankly, I don't care what you call it, so long as you work hard and act with integrity. Any questions?"

One of the recruits, a young man whose family had been embroiled in the scandal but whose own record had come out clean, half-raised his hand.

"Yes...?"

"Regulus," he supplied. "Who will we be reporting to?"

"For now, Harry Potter will be your direct supervisor." She bit back a grin at the effect the words had on the small group. Her friend and business partner was famous for almost singlehandedly bringing down the most notorious hate group in the area, and it was one of the things that had kept their firm afloat in the wake of the scandal. Harry had been the one to interview them as his gut reactions were notoriously keen, but – judging from their reactions – it was apparently one thing to be hired by the man but quite another to be mentored by him. "Once the three of you have settled in, you'll be assigned to different divisions based on your particular strengths and passions, but he's one of the best teachers we have."

After that, nobody asked anything else. They all seemed to be too awestruck to even think of a question. "Very well, then," she concluded, picking up the ledger she had to discuss with Ron after she dropped the recruits off with Harry. "If you'll come with me, I'll hand you over to Harry now."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: obsessive

In case it isn't as blindingly obvious as I expect it to be, I'm so not a law student.


	63. Live

The ghostly figures surround them like a circle of advisers. They may not be tied to the mortal world anymore, but they are here in spirit, on today of all days. Harry draws strength from them, using their memory to fuel his determination. They will not have died in vain.

Turning to the bushy-haired girl beside him, he whispers, "You should get back to the castle."

Her head shakes violently, as if sheer force alone will be able to dissuade him. "No! No, Harry. I told you I'd be with you until the end. I'm not going to – "

"It means the world to me that you've come this far," he assures her. "But this isn't the end. You need to go back so you can finish this."

"I need to be here more. Reg and Neville know enough to do that without me. If they kill you – "

"When."

" _When_ they kill you," she amends, so quickly that he wonders if rushing through the words makes them easier to say, "they'll drop their defences. I might have the chance to take out a few of them before they notice anything."

Sorrow rushes through Harry as he watches her. She, like him, is willing to give everything for their cause, and there's something comforting about the idea of her being nearby when he dies. But she still has the hope of a future ahead of her. She could be instrumental in the fight ahead, whatever she says now. And he knows she and Regulus are half in love with one another already; after all of the loss and pain they have gone through throughout the war, he isn't willing to let that get cut needlessly short. And, whatever career she eventually settles on, he knows she'll change the world someday. He has no real choice in this; she does.

He knows she knows that, too. She probably knew, even before they entered the forest under the cover of the invisibility cloak, that he would be going on alone, just like he did in first year with the philosopher's stone. But it's a difficult thing for anyone to accept, especially after fighting so long to keep him alive. "Hermione, you need to go back. They need you with them, and – if I'm going to do this – I need to know that you and Ron – and Ginny – are all safe."

She throws her arms around him in a move that's just as much a tackle as it is a hug, and he enjoys what he knows might very well be the last friendly touch he will ever feel.

"I love you," she murmurs, and he clutches her tighter before whispering it back and releasing her. "We _will_ kill him, Harry. This won't be for nothing."

"I know."

And, as she reluctantly bids the apparitions farewell and leaves the small forest clearing, he is certain that they will.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: spirit


	64. A Solitary Swim

As Hermione swam down the length of the heated pool, her mind drifted to her attractive young boss. There were definite sparks there, and she'd caught herself daydreaming about him on more than one occasion. Regulus Black was precisely the sort of man she had always imagined herself falling in love with: intelligent, witty, and just as ambitious as she was. The only problem was work; she wasn't willing to jeopardise her reputation for a relationship that might not even work out.

Idly, she considered simply quitting. It wouldn't be hard for someone with her extensive qualifications to find another job, and it _would_ remove the conflict of interest issue. She _had_ been getting a little listless with her current position, so a change of jobs would have the added benefit of giving her a new mental challenge as well.

She would have to see what was out there – and whether Regulus even returned her interest – before making any real decisions, but at least it was a viable start. Pushing the issue out of her mind, she refocused her thoughts on what to get Ginny for the young sportswoman's twenty-fifth birthday.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: quitting


	65. Peaceful

Before her – before _them_ – he spent his life haunted by fears and insecurities. He, like every other child born into the House of Black, was raised to be the best at everything he did. But, while it came easily to his older brother, it was a struggle for him. While Sirius was casually charming and endlessly suave and quick-thinking enough to recover from any blunder, Regulus was awkward and reclusive and needed time to psych himself up before social situations. He learned how to manage these fears, to cope with them, but not how to truly set them aside once and for all.

When he's with Hermione, though, they start to fade. Her presence doesn't fix all of the problems away – he doubts anything ever will – but it takes the edge off them. She understands his issues, and he knows they'll never touch their love, so he's able to take shelter in her in a way that he never imagined possible. And it's the most peaceful feeling he has ever known.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: shelter


	66. Empty

The Astronomy Tower loomed high in the distance as the pair stood beside the grave, staring up at the cloudless sky. It was difficult to reconcile the beautiful day with something so terrible. The rest of the student body had long since dispersed, but the young couple remained, blanketed in the comforting shroud of silence. There had been so many uncomfortable lapses in conversation since _that_ day that it was relieving for the silence to actually have a reason.

Hermione leant further into Regulus' side as she watched a bird's silhouette soar across the endless blue. It was too far away for her to make out its species, so she let herself entertain the notion that it might have been Fawkes, watching over his late master from afar as he tried to work out where to go next. It was probably nothing but a flight of fancy, but it was nice to think that he was still around, even if it wouldn't be for long.

"I hate this," Regulus finally said, continuing to gaze up at the sky. The longer he looked at it, the more ominous it seemed. It was almost as if someone had gone through and emptied it of its contents, just as Snape had stolen their Headmaster from them. "He was a good man, and he deserved better than to be betrayed by that bat. But I can't stop thinking about the impact this will have on the war. He was so much more than the role of general, yet his death is being overshadowed by that."

"It is terrible," Hermione agreed, sliding her gaze over his pained features. "But it's natural to process things in relation to yourself. The Headmaster had a life outside of school and the Order, but that's the only part of him we knew, so of course that's going to be thing that has the greatest impact on us."

Regulus nodded and entwined his fingers with hers. "I just wish things were different."

"Me too."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Astronomy Tower


	67. Distractions

Hermione sighed as she looked down at the doodled names that had slowly crept their way across the parchment. She had _intended_ to use it to take notes for her next Potions essay, but that had been completely unsuccessful. The first year rolled up the parchment so no one would see it and stuffed it back into her bag.

She evidently wasn't going to get any work done while Regulus was on her mind. He was a year older and wittier and, frankly, seemingly perfect, and she couldn't stop thinking about him. Frustrated with herself and her atypical inability to concentrate on her schoolwork, she decided to just go back up to the Gryffindor common room to see if she could focus better there.

Still, she couldn't resist glancing over at _his_ table before she borrowed her books and left the library. His head was bowed over his own work as his quill darted across a piece of parchment. Judging by how much of the material had already been uncoiled, _he_ was nowhere near as distracted as she was.

 _I'll see if I can work better in my room,_ she reaffirmed. _It should be easier to concentrate when he's not within easy seeing distance, and Harry and Ron might have finished playing chess by now._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: tongue-tied


	68. Fight Terror With Love

The war was frightening and tumultuous, taking away all sense of security and stability. Nothing was certain anymore; things could change in the blink of an eye, and all they could do was to try their best to adapt to it. Some days, it beat them down so low that it was a struggle to so much as leave the tent in the morning.

But they refused to let it defeat them. When they were at their worst, Regulus and Hermione turned to one another to remind themselves of the importance of not letting fear turn into hatred. They kept on going. They fought terror with love. And they clung to the hope of a coming dawn.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dawn

Absolutely gutted by the recent attacks in Belgium and Turkey, as well as by the other tragedies I came across while looking for news articles online. But we need to remember not to take our anger out on people who don't deserve it.


	69. Curiosity

Even though the room hasn't been used since before she was born, Hermione can't see even a hint of dust or wear on any of the furniture. This, apparently, is one duty Kreacher still takes seriously. As she searches the room for anything that might be useful in their Horcrux search, her mind drifts to its former occupant. When it comes down to it, they really don't know anything about Regulus Black except for the most basic of facts. Sirius didn't have much to do with his brother during the last few years of Regulus' life, so his description of the teenager was nothing but speculation. All she can be certain of is that he was a Death Eater and was brave enough to defy Voldemort when he had learned of the extent of the man's cruelty.

 _What was he like?_ she wonders as her eyes scan the room with open curiosity. It feels strange to know something so deeply personal about him when she doesn't even know what his voice sounded like or what his favourite colour was. It feels like it's the wrong way around, almost like starting at the end. And the idea of reducing him down to two decisions in a life full of choices seems inherently _wrong_.

One day, she decides, she will find out more about him. Once the war is over, they will make sure the wizarding world learns of his sacrifice, and she will make sure she knows about more than just his death.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dust


	70. The Gift

Hermione's shoes clinked against the cobbled stones as she made her way down the dark lane. Her face, partially concealed by a sagging hood, flushed crimson with guilty self-consciousness. Even though she had a reputable reason for being there, she couldn't deny that going into Knockturn Alley for a spot of shopping looked incredibly suspicious. And, while it was highly unlikely that she would bump into anyone she knew there, her involvement in Harry's life over the years had made her famous enough to be easily recognisable.

She could only hope that the other patrons were just as preoccupied with trying to hide their identities as she was. No one was likely to accept that she was simply there to buy a harmless present for her boyfriend's seventeenth birthday; even if they accepted that _she_ believed that, it would probably get back to Rita Skeeter, who would no doubt insist that Regulus was manipulating her so as to get his hands on dangerous goods.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she darted into a small jewellery shop and, after glancing around to make sure the store was empty, slid off her hood on her way over to the counter. The older man standing behind a display of ornate signet rings greeted her with a smile.

"I'm here to pick up a delivery for Hermione," she requested once they finished exchanging pleasantries. "I received a letter saying it had arrived."

He nodded and reached under the counter to pull out a small box that, when opened, revealed two silver rose lapel pins sitting on a velvet cushion. "Here they are. The protective charms all work; I tested them all myself. Would you like to try them?"

"Yes, please." As much as she trusted the wizard, she didn't want to take any risks.

With another brief incline of his head, he gestured for her to follow him out back. Once they were there, he attached first one pin, and then the other, to his robes and let her send as many hexes and jinxes at him as she could think of. "It doesn't stop curses," he reminded her as a fire hex licked at the air around him without even singeing his clothes, "but it should protect you and your boyfriend from everything else."

"Thank you," she finally said when, smiling, she lowered her wand. It wouldn't do much in a fight against real Death Eaters, who would have no qualms in sending curses at them, but, with the threat of war looming over their head, even the smallest of protective measures had the potential to be game-changing. "They're perfect."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Knockturn Alley

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Easter. I had a quiet day at home with my parents, which is always lovely.


	71. A Bright New World

Cradling the baby girl close to her chest, Hermione leaned into the warmth of her best friend's familiar shoulder. In that moment, it felt like everything was finally right in the world. There were still laws to be repealed and structures to be rebuilt as they strove to fix the holes their generation had left in the world, but that would come. Voldemort was finally gone – permanently, this time – and the newborn sleeping peacefully in her arms signified the start of a new era. With all luck, the innocent little girl named after victory itself would be part of a generation that never had to experience the bitter sting of war.

"It's a new world," she whispered. "I know I said it last time as well, but, this time, it's true."

Regulus tightened his arm around her. "And it's never looked brighter."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: victory

I hope you all had – or are having, depending on your time zone – a lovely Easter.


	72. After

"What do you want to do after we win this war?" Regulus asks, his voice soft, as they walk along the pure white sand. Filled with gratitude that it's Harry's turn to wear that blasted locket, he enjoys the scenery in a way he knows he wouldn't have been able to with that _thing_ around his neck.

"Do you mean in way of a career?"

"Yes."

"I don't know," Hermione admits. "In school, it always seemed like there were too many options... and now it seems like there aren't enough. It's hard to picture what life will be like after the war is over, let alone what I'll be able to do in it. Something to do with advocacy; I know that much."

"Maybe we can do it together."

She glances down at his hand as he slips it through hers. "Maybe," she says, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in months.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: soft


	73. A Series of Staircases

_Life is a series of staircases, and they have all led us up to this very moment,_ Regulus wrote, before pausing with a frustrated sigh. Writing his wedding speech was proving harder than he had expected. There was so much to say in such a short period of time, so he had to make every last word resonate with the strength of a thousand moments spent together. It felt like a task of Herculean proportions, and he was daunted by its magnitude.

He fought to keep his tired hand steady as he continued on. _There have been times when it has been an uphill battle in every sense of the phrase,_ _but we have always endured the pain together. And we've finally made it. Before we leave here to embark on our next staircase together, tell me, Hermione… Isn't the view worth it?_

He scrunched up his face in thought. He wasn't entirely happy with it, but it was the best his exhausted brain would be able to come up with that night. At the very least, if he hated it in the morning, it might end up serving as an example of what _not_ to do. After stashing the piece of parchment in a drawer where no one else would find it, he slipped into bed. Then, pushing the whole issue of the speech out of his mind, he fell asleep to thoughts of his bride-to-be.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: staircase

I couldn't decide whether to play the staircase analogy straight or mock it, so I decided to cheat a little, lol.


	74. Monstrous Things

"But how could someone do something like that?" the young boy asked, staring at them in abject horror.

Hermione's gaze darted over to meet Regulus' before flicking back of their son. She hated introducing him to the concept of war so early on, but they wanted him to hear about it from them rather than from some stranger on the street. "Because monsters aren't just restricted to the things that go bump in the night," she told him. "Sometimes, people do monstrous things, too, only they often don't know what they're doing until it's too late."

"Most of these people were horrendous," Regulus continued, his voice breaking under the weight of firsthand experience. "But some were genuinely misguided. _I_ was genuinely misguided." He paused just long enough for that to sink in before continuing, "So you need to be careful. You're an amazing boy with a wonderful heart, but don't ever assume that you're in the right just because it's you doing the action. Your mother and I have both made mistakes, and we'll tell you about them when you're a little older. For now, just remember that other people's opinions can be just as valid as yours. If someone's telling you that what you're doing is wrong, stop and seriously consider why. You might end up discarding their reasoning, but at least you'll have thought about it."

He nodded vigorously with all of the earnestness of wide-eyed youth. "I will," he swore. "I promise."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: monster


	75. Easy

Life is simple with him. They say what they mean, they mean what they say, and she never has to worry about being judged for it. It almost seems _too_ easy; after collecting a string of exes who all seemed determined to be worse than the one before, being able to be completely and utterly open with a man feels too good to be true. Yet, somehow, it isn't. Each and every day they spend together, she gets a little more used to the idea that this is her reality now. Her old reality has faded into photographs of times long past, and her old fantasy has finally solidified into something real.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: simple


	76. Reckless

He has never been the carefree sort. Where Sirius thrives on reckless spontaneity, Regulus has always preferred meticulous planning. It just isn't in his nature to approach a situation without a detailed battle plan.

Hermione, he knows, falls somewhere in between the two extremes; she likes to be prepared for all contingencies, but she can be as impulsive as any Gryffindor when she feels the situation calls for it.

This occasional rashness terrifies him. How will she ever outmanoeuvre people like his cousins when she is willing to howl at an unchained werewolf without sparing a thought for the consequences? How will he ever support her in a high stakes situation when she might change the plan at any moment?

Despite this, he can't help but love the passion and commitment that fuel her willingness to dive headfirst into any situation. It's intimidating, but it's real, and it's beautiful. Just like her.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: carefree


	77. Cultural Differences

"What's an answering machine?" Regulus asked, interrupting Hermione's story about her uncle's tendency of getting drunk and leaving awkward messages on their answering machine. Her parents found it hilarious and, much to her uncle's dismay, usually recorded the most embarrassing messages for future entertainment. Their latest letter had detailed his most recent brush with drunken phone calls.

"It's something you can set up so that, when people ring you on your telephone when you're out, they can leave a message for you to listen to when you get home."

With a sheepish grimace, he added, "And how do telephones work again? I thought they were the things that Muggles use to _type_ things, but…"

She sighed. "That's a computer. Telephones work almost the exact same way Floo calls do, except that you can't see the other person and don't have the option of physically travelling through the connection to their house."

He took a moment to process the information before bursting into laughter. Noticing her confused expression, he explained, "I get the story now."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: machine


	78. Change of Heart

It was never about power to him. Unlike some of his fellow Slytherins, he genuinely believed that Muggles – and, by extension, Muggle-borns – were a hazard to the wizarding world. That conviction spurred him on, giving him the unshakeable zeal of a self-entitled revolutionary.

But then, one day, he looked around and realised that his narrow-minded focus on reaching his destination had left him blind to the changing scenery. Without him noticing it, _she_ had wormed his way into his consciousness, providing a stubborn reminder that Muggle-borns weren't at all like his parents' stories had led him to believe, and she had opened the way for examples of exception after exception to shine through as well. He just hadn't been paying attention to the first inklings of change.

The blood drained from his face at the discovery that their entire campaign had been built on a lie, and, as his erstwhile allies destroyed lives in their quest for power, he made a vital decision.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: power


	79. An Unpleasant Reunion

Old feelings stirred in Hermione's chest as her wandering eyes settled on her ex-boyfriend. Regulus was as attractive and, if the way the people flocked across the room to greet him meant anything, charismatic as ever. After having spent so many years away from him, she would have thought she would be immune to his pull, but part of her – the part that had never really approved of her decision to break up with him – wanted nothing more than to let herself get reeled in again. The sight of his schmoozing made her want to puke, but she couldn't deny that he was still enticing.

Tearing her gaze away from him and his gradually growing posse, she fought to clamp down on that traitorous craving. She was no longer the idealistic schoolgirl she had once been, and he had never been the generous revolutionary she'd thought he was. At the end of the day, she was pining after a lost dream. Nothing more, nothing less. And, as alluring as that dream still was, she was happier and more fulfilled than she ever had been, and her husband was a fundamental part of that. She owed it to him, and to herself, to stay loyal to the life they'd built together.

Making up her mind to ignore him, she wove through the crowd of partygoers in search of Percy. It didn't take her long to find him; he was one of the few people not swarming Regulus like mosquitos eager to feed on his charm, after all.

"Are you alright?" Percy asked, resting a supportive hand on her back. He had seen firsthand the devastation the break-up had caused her, and he knew the confused havoc that seeing Regulus again would send through her.

"I will be, but I really need to get out of here."

"I'll come with you," he offered.

With a grateful smile, she took his hand and, taking comfort from its familiar warmth, let him lead her over to the hosts to say their goodbyes.

She didn't notice Regulus staring after her wistfully as they left. But then, even if she had, it wouldn't have changed a thing.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: ignore


	80. Metaphors

She's the ocean, deep and passionate.

And he's her moon, pulling her towards him in an eternal dance as his pale light illuminates who she truly is.

.

He's the sky, endlessly blue.

And she's his sun, burning brightly within his heart. She's the best and the brightest part of him, making him better every day.

.

She's the sapling, young and new.

And he's her ground, tying her to the land of realism as he gives her the nutrients to grow tall and the space to grow strong.

.

He's the bird, soaring free.

And she's his song, inspiring him to hope and to express his feelings to everyone who has the ears to hear it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: eternal


	81. Wizarding Sports

Hermione snuggled into Regulus' side as the Weasley clan bustled about, getting ready for an early morning game of Quidditch. She hadn't been getting enough sleep lately due to the pressure of the upcoming exams, but it was hard to sleep in at the Burrow once everyone else was awake and moving about. Hopefully, she would be able to get another hour in once they'd all left for the field.

"Hey, Regulus," Ron said, looking over at the pair as if he'd just realised something. "Do you want to play?"

"I'm way too tired to get airborne right now, but thanks." He smiled faintly. "Enjoy your game."

Fred bounded up beside his brother and grabbed his arm. "Oh, trust me, _we_ will. Alright, everybody, let's go! Game in five!"

Hermione waited until they had all gone to turn to Regulus and ask, "What was that about? You go on morning flights all the time."

"But they don't know that. The thing is that, while I like Quidditch well enough, I'm just not very good at it. I'm better at sports that involve feet."

"Wizards play other sports as well?" she asked, surprised. In all of her years at Hogwarts, she'd never even heard of other wizarding sports, let alone seen one played.

He laughed. "Of course. Quidditch is the only one you can make a career out of, but there are plenty of small sporting competitions scattered throughout Britain. It's just that most people just see them as something you do as a child before moving on to Quidditch."

The prospect of new knowledge perked her right up, taking away all traces of sleepiness. "Tell me about them," she requested.

"I can do you one better; one of the competitions takes place not that far from here. If you want, we can go check it out, and I can tell you about the other ones on the way."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Quidditch


	82. One More Year

Regulus waited until his parents are asleep to take out the sealed envelope and attach it to his owl's leg. "Spend the day at her place," he advised before fondly ruffling the bird's feathers and letting her fly free into the dark night.

He hated the subterfuge, but it was much better than the alternative. Ever since that dreadful Malfoy boy had spotted him on a date and informed his parents, his family had been desperately trying to piece together who his mystery girl was. If they ever found out, it would spell trouble for both him and Hermione, most likely ending with him being turned out onto the streets like Sirius had been the summer prior. For the time being, the best option was to cut back on any action they would assume was related to her.

At least he knew that she, while frustrated, was wiling to go along with it if that was what it took to save their relationship. One more year of school, and then they would both graduate and it wouldn't matter anymore. From that point on, they would be able to make their decisions openly rather than having to run around like frightened mice hiding from his owners.

One more year of school, and his cage door would swing open, allowing them to escape for good.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: owl


	83. Staring at the Floor

The colour drained from Hermione's face as she stared down at the faded paper. Of _course_ the monster was a basilisk! It all made sense. But that meant…

Jumping to her feet, she ripped the page from the book and crumbled it up in the palm of her hand. There was no time for dawdling; she had to get back to the others immediately. As much as it pained her to damage a book, she could easily repair it once the threat was neutralised.

She bolted out of the library, keeping her gaze trained on the ground in front of her feet. She was halfway to the stairs when she crashed headfirst into something solid.

" _Oof!_ Hermione, what are you doing? And why aren't you looking at me?"

She could recognise that voice anywhere. "Regulus, I've worked it out! I know what the monster is!" Lowering her voice out of habit, she whispered, "It's a basilisk."

"But how – "

"I'll explain later. Right now, we have to get somewhere safe – to tell the others – "

"Alright. Dungeons or tower?"

"Professor Snape's office," she decided. "It's closer than the tower, and he's more likely to listen to you than your classmates are to me."

"Right."

And so the two thirteen-year-olds ran towards the dungeons, staring at the floor the whole time.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: colour


	84. Resistance

"Keep this up, and we'll soon be overridden with Slytherins," Seamus groused as Regulus and Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch. "Might as well just throw out the table system entirely."

Hermione felt Regulus stiffen beside her. Even though her close friends had all accepted his presence in their life, the thinly veiled – and sometimes outright rude – comments some of the other Gryffindors levelled his way still got to him. "That sounds like a grand idea," she replied primly, knowing that Regulus would be trying to restrain himself from saying anything that might isolate him further. "Why don't you go and get on that?"

Apparently taking issue at being called out, Seamus protested, "It was just a joke. Geez, you both need to lighten up."

"It really wasn't, but that's okay," she said dismissively. "Reggie, could you please pass me the salt? And what did you think about that third party transportation spell Professor Flitwick was talking about?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: joke


	85. Her Haven

When the cacophony of noise swirling around inside her head becomes too much to bear and she feels like she's about to implode, he's the one she turns to. In a world that is so loud and is filled to the brink with endless possibilities, his presence keeps her from drifting off into the ether by grounding her in stability and peace. Even just a brief smile or a squeeze of the hand can quiet the din and bring her back under control again. There are so many paths and futures that she would love to explore, but he's her constant.

He's her haven.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: haven


	86. Like Her Mother

Regulus looked up from his desk at the sound of his daughter's light footsteps outside his study door. She stuck her head in to wave at him but otherwise continued along her way without stopping. Within moments, he heard the happy sigh she always gave whenever she entered a library.

The little girl was becoming more and more like her mother every day, and it tore at his heart to know that Hermione wasn't around to see it. She would have been so proud of the person Lucy was slowly becoming, and she would have delighted in introducing her to all of the wonders the world had to offer.

Flipping closed the book of accounts, he quickly strode out of the room. He had all weekend to finish the work, but he had no idea how much time he would have the privilege of sharing with Lucy.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: proud

Sorry! I just couldn't shake the idea of using this prompt from the perspective of a widowed parent.


	87. For Her

"Are you alright?" Regulus asked as Hermione came out of their daughter's room with tears in her eyes.

His girlfriend took the time to put the book she was holding – _Sleeping Beauty_ , he noted – away before answering him. "I don't know. I hate that we brought her into this world. What were we thinking? There's a war raging, and we've put her right in the middle of it."

"We were thinking that it would be over before she was born and that she would never have to experience it," he replied. "We had all but one of the Horcruxes, Hermione. We had every reason to think it would be okay. Don't beat yourself up over something that we didn't know."

"I know, it's just…" She glanced over at the bookshelf. "Part of me wishes she could go to sleep until everything's safe again. We could – "

"No," he cut her off. "We can't. Magically induced hibernations are possible, but they're unpredictable. It could make her sleep forever."

Hermione slumped against the wall, looking as defeated as he had ever seen her. She could face down Death Eaters with ease, but the edges of her confident façade always started to fray when it came to their daughter. "I know. I just wish we could make the world safe for her."

"We will. Whatever it takes, we will."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: sleep


	88. Blood

"It all comes down to blood," he said when, at eleven years of age, he tried to convince her that his ability to trace his magical heritage made him superior to her. "It just is what it is."

x

"It's the blood," he said when, at seventeen years of age, she found him crying in an abandoned classroom after he'd realised how far he had strayed into darkness. "I can't shake the memory of how it felt on my skin."

x

"It's in her blood," he said when, at eighteen years of age, he tried to explain why his cousin was so fanatical about Voldemort. "When a Black finds a cause, they usually stick with it until the end."

x

"It's all about blood," he said when, at twenty-four years old, he stood in front of a class of purebloods with the aim of teaching them not to make his mistakes. "Some use it to excuse their prejudices while their victims use it to barter for their freedom."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: blood


	89. Strategising

"What we need is somebody on the inside," Lily declared. "A double agent, if you will. Our problem is that we're solely reactionary. We can post guards at places we think they might strike, but we have no way of knowing for certain until it's too late. But if we could get one of them on our side…"

Hermione stared out the window, running through all of the people they knew or suspected to be Death Eaters. None of them jumped out at her as someone who would want to change sides.

"That sounds great, Lil, but who?" James asked. "It would be too risky to send one of our own in, and we wouldn't be able to trust someone who's already there."

"What about Snape?" Hermione asked, shifting her gaze across to Regulus. Lily tensed, and James frowned, but she ignored both of them. "You know him through your cousins, don't you? Do you think you could convince him to jump ship?"

He shook his hand. "I don't know him all that well, just enough to know that he is well and truly a slave to anger now. I can't imagine that anything I could say would be enough to change that."

There was a pregnant pause before Lily asked, "What if I try? My friendship wasn't enough to keep him from going bad last time, but maybe…"

James made a noise of displeasure, but he didn't speak. He was, Hermione sensed, just as curious about the answer as his wife was. As much as he hated the other wizard, he wouldn't be able to deny that he could be a valuable asset.

"I hate to say it, but I don't think so. He's well and truly a Death Eater now. You would have much more of a chance than me, but he would probably either organise an ambush or work as a triple agent." Regulus sighed. "I know I should offer to do it, but I can't. The things that they do…"

"No one would ask you to do that, and no one is going to think any less of you for refusing," Hermione reassured him. "We'll find another way to take the fight to them." Noticing his unconvinced expression, she added, "It would have taken too long for you to work your way up high enough for them to trust you with important information, anyway. I mean it when I say it really is alright."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: slave


	90. Kissing

He wasn't her first kiss, or her second, or even her hundredth. He wasn't the most refined kisser she'd dated, nor was he the most confident. And she knew that she wasn't any of those things for him, either.

But his kiss was, without a doubt, the one she treasured the most. The others had been driven by affection or lust, but the ones she shared with him were the first to be motivated by real love. And that imbued them with a soft warmth that never failed to bring a fond smile to her face.

He wasn't her first kiss, but she hoped that he would be her last.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: first kiss


	91. Eccentric

"She's about as accurate as a Muggle horoscope," Hermione ranted as she paced the room. "I don't know why the Headmaster thinks we need a Divination class, but she _certainly_ shouldn't be the one teaching it. She's like every bad psychic cliché all rolled into one."

"She can be a little eccentric," Regulus hedged. He didn't know much about Muggle horoscopes, but Divination, at least, was more accurate than she was claiming. Nine and a half times out of ten, a trained expert's predictions would prove to be correct, and he had never known Trelawney to be wrong. But Hermione was definitely not ready to hear that. He might be able to point it out to her once she calmed down, but that – judging from the strength of her ire – was still a long way off.

"A _little_? She is practically the _embodiment_ of eccentricity! _Honestly_ , Reg, have you even met her?"

Resigning himself to a lengthy conversation on the woman's faults, he asked, "So what happened this time?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: horoscope

Yes! And, with that, I'm finally up to date again, just in time for the end of the month.


	92. Illogical

Loving him is illogical. They come from two very different worlds, separated by strong cultural and ideological divides that operate in ways they can't always predict. Things would have been so much easier if she had fallen for someone from her own world, for someone like Ron. They would have been comfortable, and life would have been that much simpler.

But that prospect holds no appeal for her now. All she can see is him, and, illogical or not, how much she cares for him. Being together requires a lot of effort on both of their parts as they try to identify and deal with their biases in order to carve out a little piece in the world for the two of them, but it's worth it.

It's so worth it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: illogical

So exhausted from bridesmaid dress shopping. We found what we needed, and it was really fun, but it was so draining.


	93. Not a Fairytale

Life isn't a fairytale and, quite frankly, she's glad of it. As alluring as riding off into the sunset with her beloved after a long day of fighting evil _sounds_ , the idea of life after the happily ever after sounds incredibly boring to her. What would they do? Who would she help? Once upon a time, she would have liked nothing more. But reality has long since torn off her blinkers, and she can't imagine ever going back. She would far rather find meaning in continuing to achieve new things together than in basking in a picture perfect but paper thin life.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fairytale


	94. Waiting

A pair of robins trilled outside Hermione's bedroom window as she perused Regulus' letter for the third time. His words painted a vivid picture of life at Hogwarts, invoking her own memories of the inner workings of the school. Reading it almost made her feel like she was back there again.

Almost but not quite.

Going to boarding school together had been wonderful for their relationship, giving them the chance to spend as much of the day and early evening together as they wanted. Now that she had graduated and left him behind, however, she was starting to see the unpleasant cost of their years of happiness. What had lent itself so well to spending time together the year prior had swiftly turned into the exact opposite.

She missed being able to see him and talk to him whenever they wanted. Owl post just wasn't the same, and the monthly Hogsmeade trips seemed so meagre after the feast of time they had grown accustomed to.

He was only six months away from graduating, and then the matter would be resolved. And it wasn't like she didn't have anything to do: her internship at St Mungo's was more than keeping her life busy. Still, she hated every day they had to spend apart.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: window


	95. Standing Up

"You need to start standing up to them," Hermione advised. "They hate what Sirius does, but they don't fight it. If you don't, you'll find yourself looking back on this period and wondering why you let it go on for so long."

"I want to," he admitted, twisting one of her discarded hairbands around his fingers before pulling it all apart so he could start again. The band was so tight that it left little white lines on his skin, but he didn't care. They would fade soon. It all would. "I just don't know how to."

"It isn't a skill that people are just _born_ with," she pointed out. "You need to learn it, and that means practice. If you start off with small things, it will gradually get easier to handle the big things, too. You wouldn't look at an end of year exam before starting the class and panic over not knowing the material. Nor should you think you have to start off by confronting people about important things. Work up to it."

The tension seeped out of his hands as he considered her words. The sooner he dealt with the issue, the better, but he knew he wouldn't be able to cope with it right away. If he tried to do too much, too soon, it might just put him off it entirely. It was, as frustrating as the prospect was, better to start small and go from there.

But one day soon, he decided, he would be brave enough to confront his brother about his behaviour, and he was looking forward to that day.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: learn


	96. Burning Bridges

The castle's remaining residents – its last defenders – slowly trickled out into the courtyard. Their bodies were tense with wary suspicion, but those that met his gaze did so with unbridled rage and disgust.

His chest tightened under their collective fury. Now that they'd realised his treachery, there was no longer any going back for him. He had never planned to betray the Dark Lord, but it had comforted him to know that it was theoretically possible. As he watched the bridges he'd built with the intent to burn crumble to ash before him, he tried to convince himself that it didn't hurt.

One of them, however, undeniably did. Her distinctive hair, now wilder than ever, stood out amongst the rest, and his gaze was instantly drawn to her. She seemed malnourished and exhausted but, thankfully, uninjured. As he scrutinised her, her brown eyes snapped up, skewering him into place like a pitchfork. Pure loathing filled her gaze, and the icy fingers of despair ran along his spine. No matter how much he told himself that he didn't care, he couldn't even begin to ignore his guilt for deserting her. In that moment, he realised that there was no way he could curse her, even in a duel. He could only hope that she wanted to avoid fighting him as much as he did her.

If her gaze was anything to go by, she didn't.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fight


	97. Savannah Sunrise

The sun peeked up over the horizon like a meerkat, its gaze sweeping across the wide expanse of land and leaving a golden glow in its wake. The way its dim light mingled with the early morning fog made it look like mounds of sparkling dust had been deposited across the savannah. It was as peaceful and still as a photograph and as wild as only a place untouched by human hands can ever hope to be.

The only disturbance was the lone tent that was tucked away next to the shallow lake. Two silhouetted figures stood next to it, standing so close to one another that the lines of their arms blurred together. The taller of the two dropped to one knee, and the other turned to face them, a hand flying to their mouth at the sight that met them. As the sun's rays continued to spread across the quiet plains, the kneeling figure slipped something that glittered like diamonds onto the other person's left hand.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: sun


	98. Propaganda

Hermione crumpled up the piece of parchment and pegged it across the common room in disgust. The flyers had been handed out by some older students at lunch, but she had been so distracted by the thought of Buckbeak's impending trial that she hadn't even read it before stuffing it into her bag. Even the sound of a group of nearby Slytherins tittering, which should have alerted her to the fact that something was afoot, had been completely disregarded in her hurry to get to the library. She hadn't put the pieces together until she returned to Ravenclaw Tower that night and noticed the blood red writing scrawled across the front of the handout.

 _Protect Yourself from Magical Thievery: Denounce All Mudbloods._

No wonder they had laughed when they saw her unknowingly accept it the document.

She glanced down at her hands and was surprised to see that they were shaking in rage. "How could they even think that? It's just... It's so _preposterous_. How could a child steal magic from somebody they've never even met? Let alone a child who doesn't even have any affinity for magic to begin with."

Regulus turned away from the birds that were frolicking outside the large, ornate windows and wandered back over to sit across from her. After surveying her disgruntled countenance, he cautiously replied, "I'm not defending them, but you have to see it from their point of view. You grew up in a Muggle family. When you found out that magic was real, did you want to go to Hogwarts?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "More than anything."

He nodded and immediately continued, "If you hadn't been born magical, would you still have wanted to go?"

"Of course."

"What if there could only ever be a limited number of witches and wizards in the world, and everyone was vying to be one of them? Would you still have wanted to go?"

Realising where he was heading, she sighed and gritted out the most reluctant, "Yes," he'd ever heard.

Before she could dispute his line of questioning, he asked his final question. "Would you have been willing to take somebody else's place if it meant being able to go?"

As much as she wanted to give him the noble answer, she honestly didn't know what she would have done back then. She had been so obsessed with following every rule to the letter, yet the knowledge that there was a whole world of marvellous things out there that she might never get to be privy to would have rankled her to no end. "Even if somebody _wanted_ to, there would be no feasible way of doing it," she settled for saying.

Of course, he jumped on her weakness like a bloodhound. "Muggle ways are foreign to us, Hermione. We don't know the scope of what they are capable of, and that terrifies most of us. I'm not saying that they're right in wanting to eradicating Muggle-borns - three years of knowing you has made it abundantly clear that they aren't - but it all comes down to fear. If you, at eleven years of age, had had the power to take magic from somebody else so that you could go to Hogwarts, would you have done so?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"And that's the problem. Every single pureblood here would have done so in a heartbeat because we've _seen_ what happens to Squibs. People see your desperation to be accepted and wonder whether it is strong enough to have pushed you to steal magic from somebody else to get here."

"So you're saying that I should stop trying to fit in? That's ridiculous."

"No. I'm just saying that you need to understand where they're coming from before you can even attempt to change their minds."

Hermione's gaze wandered to the window as she processed everything he had said. She hated to admit it, but she could see how their rationale sort of made sense - to them, at least. It wasn't that they expected less of her than they did of themselves; it was that they valued their world above all else and knew that they would do anything to stay in it. But, instead of comforting her, all that knowledge did was remind her how difficult a process effecting social change could be. "Do you think they will ever be open to hearing the truth?"

His expression softened. "No. But, then again, I wasn't until I met you."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: noble

Happy Mother's Day!


	99. Disappointing Them

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked, examining Albus' expression for clues as to his rationale. But her godson's whole demeanour had been changing of late, and she wasn't sure she even knew what his tells were anymore. "I'm not trying to judge you here; I'm genuinely confused about what your motivations are for being so disruptive in class."

That wasn't entirely true – the idea of disrespecting education rankled her – but eleven years of godparenting had taught her that being judgmental was a sure-fire way of shutting down meaningful conversation. If she was to get through to him, he had to remember how much she loved and cared for him; so, as much as she wanted to berate him for his troublemaking, she sat back in her leather armchair and forced herself to wait for his response.

"I just want to." Albus shrugged his broad shoulders offhandedly. The first hint of tears started to well in her eyes at the thought of the cheerful baby she had so often nursed growing up to be so closed off towards her.

"Don't you care about the consequences? Al, you've been suspended. This is no longer just a matter of annoying your professors; this could have lasting consequences on both your studies and your career." She paused to let him respond, but he just stared back at her blankly. Frustrated, she blurted out, "You're making a mistake."

"Good. That's the point."

Hermione blinked at him. "Pardon?"

"Isn't making mistakes the point of being young?"

Confused by the unexpected turn, she hesitated, taking the time to collect her thoughts. "Making mistakes is part of growing up, yes, but it isn't the goal of it. The goal is learning from them so you can become a better person. Making mistakes just for the sake of it doesn't do anyone any favours – but it can have consequences. Many years ago, a young man realised he had made all the wrong decisions and gave his life trying to fix the damage he had caused. He failed. I don't want you to ever reach the point where you turn around and realise that you have gone so far down the rabbit hole that you can't pull yourself back out again."

At that, his tough façade broke, his expression shattering as he ran his hand through his hair in a gesture that was so like Harry that it hurt. "Everyone expects me to be a role model like Mum and Dad. Instead of finding a safe desk job after the war, Dad is still fighting the bad guys and making the world a safer place; and over half of the kids in my year want to grow up to be a Quidditch star like Mum. Even _James_ is a natural leader. But I'm – I'm not. I just want people to stop expecting me to be perfect. And if disappointing them is the only way to do it, then…"

"Oh, honey, being a role model isn't about being perfect or being a leader. Nobody's flawless, and it would be hypocritical of them to demand that from you. Your mother can be incredibly callous when she wants to be, and your father is one of the worst procrastinators I've ever met. Has anyone ever told you about the time he spent _months_ putting off solving a riddle despite knowing that doing so was putting his life at risk?" At his sharp nod, she continued, "All any of us want is for you to be happy, but that doesn't mean we won't make mistakes in how we go about it. If you think we're expecting too much from you, let us know. If you think anyone else is, ignore it. If they don't care about you, then they shouldn't matter."

"Mum and Dad can be rather trying at times," he admitted, and she smiled gently at the development. "Do you mind if I go to my room for a while? I want to think things over before they get home."

She gestured for him to go ahead, knowing that neither Harry nor Ginny would be pleased when the news about Albus' suspension finally reached them. As daunting as being the one to pick the boy up from Hogwarts had been, it was probably better for him that they were both overseas with work that day so they weren't the ones to deal with it. "Would you like me to speak to them about it first?" she asked just before he left the room.

Turning back to her, he shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "No. I think it's time I did."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: disappointing


	100. Obnoxious

The train ride home was a jolly one. Harry, Ron and Hermione were all thrilled to have swiped the House Cup from under Draco Malfoy's pointy nose, and they had decided that a celebration was in order. Between the memory of the blond wizard's crestfallen face and the mountain of sweets that Harry bought for them to share, it wasn't long before the three friends were overflowing with food and good cheer.

"Where's Regulus?" Ron asked between two large mouthfuls of pumpkin pasty. "I thought he was going to drop in sometime."

Hermione stiffened at his words. It wasn't unusual for the Slytherin to spend most of his time with his other friends, but it was weird that they hadn't so much as seen him since before the feast the night prior. Weird, that was, unless he was purposefully making the effort to avoid the trio.

 _Draco Malfoy wasn't the only one who had thought he'd won, only to have that taken away from him,_ she realised. Regulus, too, had been the subject of the joke they'd been enjoying so heartily. They were probably the last people he wanted to see; not only had they benefited from his expense, but they'd been the ones who had received the last minute House points in the first place.

"I'm going to go find him," Hermione declared. She couldn't make things better for him, but she could, at least, explain what the three Gryffindors had gotten up to on the third floor so he didn't feel quite as maligned.

"Tell him he can join us," Harry suggested. "There's plenty of food left, if he wants any."

Examining the mess of wrappers and transfigured decorations that were strewn around the compartment in a way that would seem obnoxious to anyone outside of Gryffindor House, Hermione shook her head. "I think he would probably prefer to stay with his other friends for now. Either way, I'll be back before we get to King's Cross."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: House points


	101. A Decision

"What did Sirius want?" Hermione asked when Regulus finally returned to their underground common room after meeting with his brother. The wizards' relationship was still strained from the weight of house divides and broken expectations, but her friend's changing attitudes towards Muggle-borns had seen his brother start to reach out to him again.

At first, Regulus didn't respond, opting instead to circle the room as he checked all of its lounges and armchairs for what she could only assume were other students. Finally, when he had looped back around to her again, he stopped and whispered, "They're becoming Animagi to help Lupin through the full moons, and he wanted to know if I wanted to become one too."

Her curiosity pricked up its ears like a cat anticipating a good meal. That field of study had always fascinated her, given how many Muggle novels she'd read about the topic back when she'd thought she was as magical as the ocean was yellow; it seemed like it would be both practical and fun, even if all Animagi had to register their forms at the Ministry. But, as appealing as the idea was, it was so advanced and dangerous that not even she fancied the idea of attempting it without an experienced instructor. "You really shouldn't. It's illegal for anyone under seventeen years of age to attempt it," she reminded him, "and it's prohibited for a reason. If something were to go wrong – "

"I'm going to do it," he announced. "It's… Sirius wants to do something _with_ me for once. If I say no, who knows when he'll ask again? At least, this way, it's not going to be yet another thing that he shares with Potter and Pettigrew but not me. Besides, it will help Lupin with his transformations – and weren't you going on about werewolf rights just last year?"

"Yes," she replied hesitantly, "but I – "

"Anyway, I'm not here to ask you if you think _I_ should do it. Right or wrong, I'm going to. I was just wondering if _you_ wanted to do it _with_ us."

"I'll think about it," she hedged, but she already knew – as illegal and dangerous as it might be – that there was no way she was going to let him explore this unique branch of magic without her. "What else did Sirius say?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: years


	102. Storytime

"Which story would you like me to read to you tonight?" Hermione asked, tucking her daughter into bed. As she waited for the little girl's answer, she was struck anew by how perfect she was. With hair as wild as her mother's and eyes as pale as her father's, she was a wonderful blend of both of them. Hermione was so lost in her joy that it took a few moments for the five-year-old's reply to register in her mind.

" _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ ," Lucy repeated.

Hermione's fingers tightened against the soft coverlet, sending the fairies embroidered into that section of fabric scurrying out of the way indignantly. _It's a strange thing to fixate on,_ she thought, but, even after eight years, she still couldn't think about that story without flashing back to those dreadful months spent on the run, combing through every inch of the text in a desperate attempt to find answers.

"Darling," she said, thinking quickly, "you know Daddy loves that story. He would feel really hurt if I read it to you instead."

"But you do different voices than he does. I want to hear how you do it."

"It's always interesting to look at stories from new angles," Hermione admitted, "but Daddy sees it as something special that the two of you can do together without me. I don't want to take that away from him."

Lucy huffed but said, "Alright. As long as he reads it tomorrow."

"I'm sure he will. He will be very impressed with how understanding you've been – as am I." Hermione smiles at the way Lucy beamed in response, lighting up like a shining chandelier. "Now, for tonight, what would you like me to read instead?"

" _The Butterfly Song,_ " she decided after a few moments.

"That's an excellent choice," Hermione praised her, pulling the book from the girl's growing shelf of books and sliding into bed next to her.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: The Tales of Beedle the Bard


	103. Different Technologies

Hermione scowled across the table of books at Regulus as he tapped away on the computer keyboard. She had introduced him to the technology as part of her attempt to familiarise him with Muggle culture, but she herself had never been much for them. Computer screens and plastic keys felt too impersonal to ever truly replace books. She used it when she had to, but she preferred to defer to books whenever possible.

That had put her in the bewildering position of watching as Regulus' computer literacy rapidly grew to surpass hers. If someone who didn't know them was told that one of them was a previously bigoted pureblood and the other a resourceful Muggle-born, she would be the one assumed to be the extremist. It felt almost surreal to sit across from him as he used a Muggle invention with an easy familiarity that seemed to speak of a lifetime of experience with the thing.

"Found anything yet?" she asked, her voice much gruffer than she'd intended.

His gaze darted up to hers in almost a flinch of movement before dropping back to the screen. "Not yet. I, er, got distracted."

Well, that was something, at least. He might be better at the flash new technology, but _her_ method didn't present the endless distractions that his was so fond of throwing at him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: new


	104. The Bank Job

"You want to break into Gringotts," Regulus repeated, looking between the three eager faces in shock. "It's the most highly defended place in wizarding Britain – yes, even more so than Hogwarts – and you want to _break in_? That's lunacy. They'll catch us before we even get to the vault."

"We have to," Harry declared, as if that resolved the matter entirely. Regulus had the unfortunate suspicion that, to the reckless Gryffindors' minds, it did. "We need the Horcrux your cousin stashed away in there, and there's no other way to get it."

"Besides," Ron continued, "Quirrell broke in back in our first year, remember? If he can do it, we can."

Regulus turned to Hermione for support, assuming that she, of all people, would see where he was coming from. "You can't be serious."

"It's a risk, yes, but I think we can do it. We have Bellatrix's wand and a few strands of her hair, so they will have every reason to believe I'm her. And no one knows you've defected yet."

"And Griphook has agreed to come with us," Harry added.

"Exactly. If someone who looks like Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with her cousin, a respected goblin, and two 'bodyguards', we might just be able to pull this off."

"And if we can't? If we get caught, it's all over."

"If we don't get the Horcrux, it's all over," she countered. "We can't win this war by taking the safe route. We have to take this chance."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: war


	105. Photoshoot

"It's all about lighting, proportions, and angles," Colin explained as he gestured for them to shuffle a little further to the left. "It takes some time to get used to it all, but, once you do, it becomes almost instinctual. Stop! Yes, that's brilliant. Smile!"

Stamping down on her irritation about how long the young wizard's 'short' practice photoshoot was taking, Hermione tried to channel all of her excitement over their approaching graduation into beaming at the metal cylinder. It was a lovely day, and her boyfriend was beside her, and Colin was going to give them some nice portraits as compensation for giving him the chance to expand his photography portfolio, and perhaps, if she kept listing all the positives until he was done, she could keep going on the power of that alone.

Colin popped his head up over the top of the camera. "Regulus, you look like you've just eaten a bunch of sour grapes. I need you to _smile_."

"This is the hundredth time he has needed us to smile today," Regulus muttered. "You'd think he'd have at least one good shot by now."

"Just think about how you won that last Quidditch match."

Hermione couldn't see his reaction, but Colin's shout of, "Perfect!" assured her that the problem was solved for the time being.

 _We'll finish up after this set, though,_ she decided as the younger boy directed them to reposition themselves once more. _Friend or not, he really is taking this too far._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: angles


	106. After the Battle

Hermione's heart ached as she watched the Aurors round up and disarm the remaining Death Eaters. People she had gone to school with, had competed against and graduated alongside, stood among their ranks, waiting to be carted off to Azkaban as punishment for their crimes. How had they fallen so far? Why did Severus Snape despise her so thoroughly? What had led Peter Pettigrew, once so outgoing and loyal, to betray the Order? Who had recruited the previously sheltered Jones twins? When had Regulus Black decided to pledge his life to such an unjust cause? In a better word, they would have all been reluctant but polite acquaintances. How had hatred rooted itself so deeply in their hearts that war had seemed like the best option?

Sighing, she turned her back to them. Each and every one of the detainees had made their choice. They didn't deserve their time, so she wouldn't give them any more of it. Striding across the room, she quickly returned to her friends. Sirius, Remus, Frank and Alice were standing in a small circle, pointedly looking anywhere but at the younger Black. "Let's go home," Hermione suggested. "I think it's time to wash all of this grime off."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Azkaban


	107. Under Her Reign

"There's cause for celebration, it seems. That Granger woman has been elected as Minister for Magic." Dropping his polite façade in favour of a cruel sneer, Barty crumpled up the latest issue of the Daily Prophet and tossed it across the dormitory. If travesties like that were being lauded on the front page, the paper no longer deserved his patronage. "Can you imagine? A mudblood as our head of state! Pitiful, that's what this is. It will be like hell under her reign."

Regulus' hand snapped out to catch the loose ball. Unwrapping it, he perused the article himself. "It sounds like she had a large majority. People seem to like her."

Scoffing, Barty shook his head. "It's nothing about her specifically; everyone is just too scared of being seen as bigoted to vote for anyone else. Stupid, the lot of them."

"Stupid," Regulus agreed as he stuffed the paper in the bin. "They can't see that she doesn't even know the first thing about our culture and our ways. But I suppose that what's done is done, and there's nothing we can do about it."

A slow smirk spread across Barty's face. "Not necessarily _nothing_ ," he said, his mind already jumping back to the thought of creating their own group aimed at opposing any and all mudblood influences.

Regulus' sharp gaze snapped up to his face. "What do you mean by that?"

"I might have an idea, but I need to think about it more first," he replied, and he refused to say another word on the matter.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: hell


	108. The Muggle Election

"What's this?" Regulus asked, lifting up one of the coloured flyers he had only just avoided sitting on. There were a few others strewn across the floor, along with timelines and pieces of parchment covered with notes. The bright sheet in his hand had a Muggle photo of a smiling woman above a bunch of words that didn't make much sense to him contextually.

Hermione barely stopped her work, only looking up for the brief second it took to glance over at the pamphlet. "Political advert," she replied, her voice brisk. "I need to catch up on eighteen years of politics in a matter of weeks."

"Fudge bad, Scrimgeour worse, anyone else better," he summarised. "What else is there to catch up on?"

"Not for a wizarding election; for a Muggle one." Rolling her eyes, she ripped up one of the rectangular adverts and, muttering something about misguided leadership, tossed the scraps over her shoulder.

"You have to vote in them?"

"I don't _have_ to. The Ministry would be thrilled to give all Muggle-borns an exemption, since they believe our only true allegiance should be to wizarding Britain. But, in case I decide to return there one day, I'd like to make sure I'm happy with its governmental direction. Besides, it affects my parents as well."

He shrugged. It was hard enough to keep up-to-date with all of the candidates for _one_ country; doing all of that work for _two_ of them just seemed superfluous. Still, he supposed he could see where she was coming from. "I have a few essays to write, but I'll check back in on you later."

She nodded. When he glanced back at her upon leaving the room, she seemed to be focused on her task once more.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Ministry of Magic

Sorry for the political focus, but my past few days have been split between bridesmaid things and election things. I haven't been anywhere near as obsessive as Hermione is here, but…


	109. Help

"I need your help."

Hermione's hand clenched into a tight fist as she let out a heavy sigh and set her quill aside. In the lead up to their NEWTS, her cohort had, much like a hive of bees, collectively decided to turn to her for help finding books and clarifying questions. She was grateful that they were all taking their exams seriously, but the constant distractions were starting to grate on her nerves – so much so that she was waking up earlier so she could get work done in the library before anyone else got there. Unfortunately, it seemed like it still wasn't early _enough_.

"Yes?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her frustration as she swivelled her body around to face the source of the disruption.

She blinked in surprise. Standing beside her was a boy with black hair, grey eyes... and green robes. They had only ever spoken insofar as their prefect duties demanded it, but his haughty features were unmistakeable. "Black?"

Regulus Black glanced around the empty library before crouching down beside her. "My parents want me to be inducted as a Death Eater the day after I graduate," he whispered. "I need somewhere else to go."

"Why are you coming to me about this?" she asked, frowning in confusion. "I thought you hated Muggle-borns."

"I do. But that doesn't mean I want you dead. And I know you're part of the Order of the Phoenix."

She stared at him, torn over whether or not she could trust him.

"Please," he added. "I don't want to fight in this war, but, if I go home, I'll have no choice."

"Why didn't you go to the Headmaster?" she asked, her voice hesitant. It still seemed strange that he would approach _her_ instead of Harry or Ron. They were just as much a part of the Order as she was.

"He wouldn't meet with me, not alone. Even if he did, he would probably make me promise to me a spy in exchange for my safety. And I don't want that; I just want somewhere safe to wait this war out." His gaze darted around like a pinball machine, and she was struck with the impression that he was one wrong move away from fleeing the library and giving into his parents' wishes.

She nodded. She wanted to argue with him – why should he get the choice to hide when so many others didn't? – but she didn't want to scare him away. A little compromise was a small price to pay for keeping a potential soldier away from the enemy lines. Besides, she trusted the Headmaster; he would, at the very least, expect Black to disclose everything he knew or suspected about Voldemort's forces. "Okay. I'll talk to Harry when he gets back from Quidditch practice, and we can all go to the Headmaster together."

After a moment, he said hesitantly, as if he still wasn't quite used to being polite to her, "Thank you."

 _Well, at least it's a start._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: quill

For the first time in my life, I've finished reading new Harry Potter-related material (excluding Pottermore stuff) before my brother. So I'm now spoiler-proof enough to internet again, but I have no one to discuss things with until Kaay and/or Dad finishes the play. If anyone else is in the same boat, feel free to PM me to talk about it...


	110. In the Light of the Moon

The pale moonlight whispered to her like a lover, and her body yearned to answer its call. Closing her eyes, Hermione clenched her fists, trying to divert her attention to the pain of her nails biting into the palm of her hand. She could feel the pull of the potion working within her, protecting her from the moon's allure. Holding onto that, she focused on staying human.

She could do this; she had to do this.

It took a long time, and there were many moments when she thought she would fail. But, finally, she felt it fade away entirely.

She stared up at the full moon, unaffected by its pull. And her hand banged out the special knock against the floor.

Barely a second later, the door swung open and Regulus strode in. "It worked," he said, his eyes wide as he took in her unchanged form. "You're still human."

She nodded. There was still a lot of work to be done; they needed to check for side effects, test it on other werewolves, perfect the dosage... And that was before they even started looking into distribution. But, for the first time since her fateful encounter with Greyback at Malfoy Manor seven years prior, she hadn't turned into a werewolf.

Smiling up at her colleague, she pulled herself to her feet. "It's not perfect," she said, "but it's getting there."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: moonlight


	111. The Time Traveller

She woke to agonising pain. It tore through her body, leaving nothing untouched, before gradually fading away to a dull ache. Letting out a low groan, she slowly forced her eyes open. To her surprise, she found herself lying just outside the towering oak doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with two strangers peering down at her.

"She's regaining consciousness," a boy about her own age said.

"I can see that," the older girl crouching beside him replied before turning her attention back to Hermione. "Are you alright? What are you doing out here?"

"I don't know. I was... I was in a room, and then..." Her voice faded away as the memory came surging back. She had been in the Department of Mysteries, in the Time Room, and then a stray spell had sent all of the time turners crashing down around her. The magic was so unpredictable, and when mixed together like that...

She swore. It had sent her back – or forward – in time, and the violent force of it seemed to have been enough to misplace her physically as well as temporally. Well, at least she didn't need to find a way to sneak out of the Department of Mysteries.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," the boy reassured her. "My cousin has gone to get a professor, and they'll know what to do. But you're safe with us until then. I'm Regulus, and this is my other cousin Andromeda. What's your name?"

"I don't remember," she lied, reaching a hand up to her head as if she'd hit it when she fell. For she recognised their names and the enormity of the decisions that lay before her – and she wanted time to think things through before committing to any one path.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: time


	112. The Vow

Hermione worked tirelessly into the night, running on pure emotion long after the boys succumbed to sleep. Her eyes ached from exhaustion, and her heart throbbed with the pain of betrayal, but she pushed through it with almost mechanical precision. After all, as much as she wanted to curl up in bed and cry into her pillow, Regulus' betrayal meant that they had to push harder to find the Sword of Gryffindor before Voldemort did.

The creak of old floorboards alerted her to the presence of another person. Slipping her hand into her pocket to grip her wand, she spun around to face the intruder –

– only to see a familiar dark-haired figure staring back at her.

"Harry! Ron! Wake up!" she called out, raising her wand to stay the wizard's progress.

"Hermione," he started, but she ignored him in favour of continuing to stir the sleeping wizards.

"Wassup?" Ron asked, his voice croaky from disuse.

"Too early," Harry grumbled, but he opened his eyes nevertheless. When his gaze fell on the fourth person in the room, he jumped to his feet, elbowing Ron painfully in the ribs.

With a grunt, Ron jerked upright, protests falling from his lips like rain until he too noticed the Slytherin.

"What are you doing here?" Ron demanded, his voice no longer slurring. "You left us for him. You left – " He cut off the sentence with a guilty look at Hermione, who was staring intently down the length of her wand.

Regulus Black watched them with a look of sorrow on his face. "I made a terrible mistake. I shouldn't have left."

"No," Hermione replied, her eyes trained on the bandages that covered her ex-boyfriend's left forearm so intently that it almost felt as if she expected them to start making a case for themselves, "you really shouldn't have."

"How much does _he_ know?" Harry asked. "And how did you find us?"

"Sirius' mirror," he replied, answering the less complicated question first. "You didn't put it away, so, when I decided to come back, I looked through it and recognised the eatery in the background as somewhere my father once took me for lunch. And he… He knows everything." Staring at a crack in the ground, he added, "As soon as he made me kill someone to take the mark, I knew I'd made the wrong decision. I left the first chance I got."

"You can't stay with us now," Ron protested. "How do we know we can trust you? And what if he can track you through the mark?"

"I will take a vow. Anything you want. Just, please, let me back."

"I trust him," Harry declared. "If he does the vow, we'll know for certain that – "

"But what about the mark?" Ron interjected. "What if he leads V – You Know Who right to us without even meaning to?"

"You Know Who didn't know where Karkaroff was," Hermione pointed out, "and he had the mark as well." Feeling the weight of their gazes on her, she continued, "If he's willing to make a vow, I think we should let him stay. We're going to need all the help we can get over the coming weeks."

"Hermione, thank you," Regulus said gratefully, starting forward towards her.

She flinched away from him. "Don't. This doesn't mean I want us to be together again. I don't, and I don't think I ever will after all the things you said. I'm just saying that we shouldn't throw away a potential ally."

He stopped in his tracks, heartbreak written across his face, but he didn't argue. There wasn't anything he could say to change what he'd done.

"Then I agree as well," Ron declared, breaking the tension. "Let's get started, then. Hermione, do you want to do the wording? You're the best at making sure there aren't any loopholes."

She nodded and, with an appreciative smile, set to work, doing her best to ignore the fourth member of their party.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: work


	113. Italian Sunshine

Walking along the soft Italian sand with her vanilla ice cream, Hermione noticed that everyone bar Regulus had vacated their towels in favour of the vast ocean. Stifling a groan, she resigned herself to his company. He had been polite enough since setting out for their holiday, but the chill that had been between them since childhood had yet to even start thawing.

Well, she thought, if it's going to happen anywhere, it might have to be in the Italian sunshine.

"I see they've abandoned us for greener pastures," she said as she stretched out on the sand next to him.

"Indeed. The call of the ocean couldn't wait, apparently."

"Well, you know what their impulse management is like."

To her surprise, he actually snorted. "I wasn't aware that they even had any."

She grinned at him in shared camaraderie. As much as she loved their friends, their propensity for acting first and thinking never was a constant thorn in her side. "Just a smidgeon, I think. It can be hard to notice it."

"It wouldn't help that I left my reading glasses at the motel."

"No, I daresay it wouldn't." Sighing contentedly, she looked out over the bay. The sight of Sirius splashing around in the water like a fish on a line startled a laugh out of her. "I would hate to see your brother after he's had caffeine. He's already like the Energiser Bunny without it."

His eyebrows darted up in confusion. "The what?"

"The – Oh. Sorry, it's a Muggle thing from an advertisement. It's a long story, but the abridged version is that it means he has an obscene amount of energy."

To her relief, he didn't snipe about the Muggle reference, instead settling for a reserved, "That he does."

Maybe, just maybe, Regulus Black wasn't as bad as she'd thought.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: vanilla


	114. By the Bonfire

The bonfire crackled and flared in the cool night air as the group of teenagers gathered around it for warmth. A smile tugged at Hermione's mouth as she stared into its depths, leaning against her boyfriend's arm. A piece of flaming ash was swept up by the breeze and twirled around in the sky until it finally landed near Regulus' feet.

"It's beautiful here," he said. "Quiet. Like it's a world of its own."

"Yeah," she agreed, watching the fire lick the marshmallows they were all holding out with its heat. The horrors of the war were never far from her mind, but moments like this let her pretend, even just for a moment, that they were a normal couple with normal worries and fears. As she pulled the stick away from the flames and scraped the gooey dessert into her mouth, she felt at peace.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: ash


	115. The Sore Loser

"Honestly, boys, just ignore him," Hermione insisted as her best friends paced the Gryffindor common room in a rare fury. Despite her unending efforts, they had been ranting almost nonstop for the past hour. "Black's just being a prat, as usual."

"But he _knows_ something," Harry insisted.

At the same time, Ron blurted out, "Didn't you hear what he said? 'You'd – '"

"Yes, I was there as well. I agree we should tell Professor McGonagall about this just in case – as I told you an hour ago. But he's probably just trying to mess with your head. He has always been a sore loser; he isn't worth your time."

"He knows something," Harry repeated.

But Ron frowned as he considered her words. "That does sound like him," he allowed. At Harry's glare, he added, "I'm not saying he's lying, Harry, but you have to admit that it's something he _would_ do, yeah? If he had no idea what was going on but wanted to mess with us anyway?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, "I suppose. He did destroy a vase the first time you beat him in a test, didn't he, Hermione?"

She nodded. "He's a childish, self-centred prat who can't stand not winning. Why would we expect any better of him?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: loser


	116. What It Means to Be Loved

"My parents have always loved me," Regulus said, staring down at the crib they had just bought. He had been so withdrawn lately that she was surprised to hear him speak. "I've never doubted that. But there were times – because of how they treated Sirius – when it felt like they only liked me because I did what they would have done. Now, I know that isn't true. But Hermione, I..." He looked up at her, tears shimmering in his eyes, and finished, "I don't want our little boy to ever feel like that."

Hermione nodded. When it came to his childhood, Regulus wasn't as tight-lipped as his brother, but she had known there were still things he wasn't telling her. She hesitated, wanting him to know she wasn't brushing off his concerns, before placing a hand on his arm and replying, "We'll do everything in our power to make sure he never has reason to."

She smiled at him, and his mouth turned up in response. It was grateful, if a little faint, and it was all she needed to know that they were in this together.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: loved


	117. Speak Up

Regulus stared across at Hermione, who was sitting at the other side of the table with a scowl on her face. He hesitated, trying to work out the best way to reply to her obvious ire. "I agree with you," he said after a few moments. "Of course I do."

"Then why won't you fight with us?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms with a huff. "If you believed in the cause as strongly as we do, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "There is a vast difference between thought and action. I know it's not the Gryffindor way, but _some_ of us like to think things through before – "

"Thinking about thinking," she muttered, her tone derisive. "Don't be a Jobberknoll, Reg."

 _"What?"_

"A Jobberknoll," Hermione repeated. "They live their whole lives without making a single sound – and then they let it all out when they die."

"I know what they are, but what do they – "

"Don't wait to use your voice until it's too late to make a difference." She stood up, flicking her wand to send the library books flying back over to their shelves. "If you disagree with Voldemort's tyranny, _do something about it_."

She strode off without a second glance, leaving him alone to stew over her words.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: library


	118. Liar

_Liar._

The word echoed in his head, torturing him with its simple truth. For him, lying was as easy as breathing. He didn't even have to think about it anymore – sometimes, he heard falsehoods leaving his mouth before he even realised he had devised them. No matter what he said to the world, he would never be an honest man.

 _Liar_.

 _She_ viewed honesty as a badge of honour. That wasn't to say that she never lied; she was incredibly ruthless when it came to doing what she thought was right, after all. But, in general, she lived in truth while he dwelt in lies.

 _Liar._

And that was where the problem lay. She expected him to be like her, to be open and honest and true. Over time, all of his fibs and falsehoods had built up, creating little fractures in their relationship that eventually grew into a fissure.

 _Liar._

He couldn't deny it; he would never be able to deny it. For once, he had to be honest – for both of their sakes.

"You're right," he replied, meeting her gaze for the first time since she'd levelled that word at him like a weapon. "I know you value honesty. But the truth is that I _am_ a liar, and I always will be. The question is whether or not you can live with that."

He waited for her answer. But since he was being honest, he had to admit – even just to himself – that he already knew what she was going to decide.

 _Liar._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: liar


	119. Honesty

_Honesty._

She closed her eyes at his words. He was right; honesty was one of the things she valued the most in a partner. Without it, how could two people truly know one another? She wasn't hypocritical enough to judge people for not being truthful _all the time_ , but she lied when she had to and not a moment more. She couldn't understand how some people could lie so easily and so often.

 _Honesty._

And he was one of those people. After growing up around people who could switch from friends to enemies in a second, he had perfected the art of lies and non-answers. She didn't blame him for it, but it made life with him difficult.

 _Honesty._

And that was where the problem lay. It was important that she was able to trust the people around her. Could she spend the rest of her life with someone who would just as easily lie as tell the truth? She loved him deeply, but did she even know him?

 _Honesty._

For all that he was the liar, he wasn't the only one who had been deceiving himself for the past year. More than anything, she had wanted to make it work between them. And she had let that blind her to the truth.

"You're right," she said, opening her eyes once more. His gaze was knowing – accepting, even. "I can't keep doing this anymore. We both deserve better."

He nodded, and she felt a sad sort of acceptance settle over her. So this was what it felt like.

 _Honesty._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: honesty

I was going to leave the last drabble as it was, but it seemed like a waste not to juxtapose it with the honesty prompt.


	120. The Talking

"You just have to have an opinion about everything, don't you?" Walburga Black asked, sneering down her nose at the witch her youngest – and, not so secretly, favourite – son had brought home for her to meet. The girl was pretty enough, she supposed. And, if the reports were to be believed, she was passably intelligent as well. But the _talking_!

"Well, yes," the younger witch replied. "It's part of my job as a budding politician, you see. In this particular case, though, I'm afraid I must admit to having a vested interest in the topic at hand."

Walburga frowned. Why was she so passionate about silly little things like house-elves? She glanced at her son, hoping that he would explain, but he was watching his girlfriend with a fond smile. "What do you mean?"

The girl's smirk took on a vicious edge. "I mean that, as a Muggle-born, I feel compelled to stand up to pureblood oppression in all of its forms, including but in no way limited to the subjugation of house-elves and werewolves."

Only one word registered in Walburga's mind. She screeched and grabbed at her wand, pulling it out and pointing it directly at the Mudblood who had dared to impose herself on her. But, before she could cast her first curse, her wand went spiralling out of her grip.

As it clattered against the nearby fireplace, she turned her gaze to her son, whose wand was drawn and ready. "You knew," she accused him, putting the pieces together.

"I knew," he agreed, his tone amicable even as his eyes cautioned her to back down.

Walburga glanced back at the girl, who looked smug. "I will never agree to this."

Regulus shrugged and rose from his seat. "Quite frankly… you don't have to."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: opinion


	121. As He Lay Dying

Spells flew around Regulus as he ducked and weaved, crashing and bursting into a gamut of colour that would have been magnificent had it not been so deadly. Instead, he focused on staying out of their reach as he tried to focus on getting to the Horcrux. He had known that agreeing to fight by Hermione's side would be dangerous, but this was mayhem.

A blast careened into his back, knocking him off his feet. He heard her shriek out his name, and then a hand was on his back and Luna's voice was frantically murmuring healing spells.

But it was too late.

As he lay dying, he had but one thought.

Hermione had been right; he had never before felt so alive.

* * *

A/N: Sorry. Prompt: alive.


	122. Three Questions

The room was quiet as Regulus finished telling the story of how, after what had seemed like a long sleep, a stranger had dragged him out of the water and he had come spluttering back to consciousness. After a few moments of stunned silence, Sirius lowered his wand and strode forward, pulling his brother into a tight hug.

Hermione watched their reunion with a smile. Beside her, Mrs Weasley was sniffling into a handkerchief.

After everything that had happened over the past two years – Sirius being left comatose after the battle at the Department of Mysteries, the attack on the school, Dumbledore's death at Snape's hand – it was a relief to have _something_ go their way. Sirius' joy was almost palpable, warming the entire room.

She was glad he was alive, but the mystery of the wizard's return niggled at the back of her mind. How had this stranger overpowered the Inferi by herself? How had she known where to find Regulus Black? And what had her motive been?

* * *

A/N: Prompt: mystery

(I've just started watching Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party and it is SO GOOD.)


	123. Rainbows and Butterflies

Hermione had never been one for rainbows and butterflies. Years of reading ahead of her age range had taught her that real life was harder than that, and that had only been reinforced by the aftermath of the war. She still fought for peace and dreamed of love, but her optimism had lost some of its lustre.

But then she had met Regulus. It was like the sun had come out after the rain, and her stomach twisted with nervous delight every time she saw him. Britain was still broken, and life was still hard, but meeting him reminded her that good things could come at the most unexpected of times.

And it renewed her determination to keep soldiering on.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: butterflies


	124. One Less

Hermione made her way to the library, mulling over her plans for that evening. Ever since she and Regulus Black had been paired together for a Potions essay, she had been finding little ways of bringing up the topics of Muggle culture and rights, trying to slowly wear away at his prejudice. She hadn't yet succeeded, but she still had hope. At the very least, she hoped to use the fact that he had never been one for needless confrontation to convince him to sit the war out entirely. It wasn't optimal, but it was better than the alternative. After all, every pureblood supremacist disengaged was one less pureblood supremacist on the battlefield.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that there _would_ eventually be a battlefield. The question was not if, but rather where and when.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Potions


	125. Or Not

A/N: Prompt: family

This is a continuation from the last drabble, hence the title.

* * *

Regulus had noticed what Hermione was trying to achieve. It would have been hard not to; her attempts at coercion were as subtle as a yellow elephant at a park. But what she lacked in subtlety, she made up for in determination. He genuinely wanted to go along with what she was saying, to leave it all behind.

But he couldn't do it. He knew what the repercussions of his actions would be if he refused to become a Death Eater. His parents were vocal sympathisers, but that would mean little to the Dark Lord if he were to find out that _both_ of their sons had decided against joining him.

In the end, it all came down to family; she had to defend hers, and he had to protect his.

So he let her wax on about the virtues of the Muggle world, and, on occasion, he even conceded her point. It was fascinating to learn all about this culture he had never known.

But he already knew what his decision would ultimately be.


	126. Not Yet Real

Hermione stared down at the medal in her hands. It gleamed in the light as she twisted it this way and that, trying to sort through her thoughts. The Order of Merlin was supposed to be an award for her service during the war, but, while the acknowledgement was certainly nice, it felt like poor compensation for everything she had endured. How could the public isolate and humiliate them for years and then turn around and expect to make it all better by giving them all what were, at their core, just pretty trinkets?

"It's strange, isn't it?" Regulus asked, and she glanced up to see that he was examining his own medal. "It's a great honour to get one of these, and some people spend their whole lives tryingto earn one, and yet here we are…"

"Not feeling all that thrilled about it?" she supplied.

He nodded. "Don't get me wrong; I appreciate the gesture. It's just… It just doesn't feel _real_ yet, you know? Less than a year ago, we were running for our lives, and now we're being heralded as heroes?"

She dropped the medal, letting the chain catch it, and reached out for his hand. "I know."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: award


	127. Forever Eighteen

Hermione still wasn't sure exactly why Sirius was being so forthcoming about his younger brother. The man usually liked to keep his secrets bottled up like a fine wine, waiting and waiting for them to mature but never actually taking it out to drink. But the whiskey in his hand must have been the bottle with the secrets in it, for when she came downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack and mentioned how strange it was for an only child like her to be in such a full house, he had started talking. He told her things that he would never have said in the light of day, and she listened to every word he said.

When he finally stood up over an hour later, she assumed he had realised what he was doing and decided to flee. Instead, he opened the door so he could summon something into the room and then, when it arrived, dropped a photo on the table in front of her. "That's him," he said. "It would have had to have been taken shortly before she died."

She peered down at the developed paper. A teenage boy was staring back up at her, brandishing his wand with pride. Even if Sirius hadn't told her who he was, his colouring would have given it away. "How old was he?" she asked, reaching down to slide her finger under the edge of the photograph.

"Eighteen."

She frowned up at him in realisation. "He was only two years older than I am now." It was strange to think that this wizard's age would never change. He should have, by all rights, been in his thirties, but he was instead stuck as an eighteen-year-old forever. In two years' time, she would be older than he had ever been.

If she survived the war, that was.

"I should go back to bed," Hermione murmured, taking one last look at the photograph before handing it back to Sirius. "Ginny will worry if I sleep in too late tomorrow."

He nodded, and she made her way to the door. Just before she passed through it, she hesitated. "You know," she added, turning back around to face him, "you should probably get some sleep as well."

It was a risky move; the wizard detested being told what he should or should not do and usually rebelled against any attempts to restrict his behaviour. But it was a night of unusual happenings, so she decided to push her luck.

To her surprise, he merely cast a spell to clean his glass and, his eyes glittering suspiciously, followed her back upstairs.

"Goodnight," she whispered when they reached the room she shared with Ginny.

"Goodnight," he replied, continuing onwards.

But when she slipped back into bed, her mind kept wandering back to the tragedy of the boy who would be forever eighteen. Had they met, they would have hated each other on principle; but, for Sirius' sake, she mourned the loss of the man Regulus Black might have become.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: age


	128. Academics

Hermione glared down at her DADA assignment. While, strictly speaking, the compare-and-contrast question itself wasn't prejudiced enough to warrant investigation, the implications angered her. The students were being encouraged to present their own conclusions in regards to whether Muggle or wizarding methods of self-defence were superior, and there was even an addendum to note that no one would be penalised for talking 'uncommon' viewpoints.

Just leave it to Umbridge to not want students applying critical thought to anything until it could be used as an excuse to give Outstandings to people for bemoaning the barbarism of their Muggle counterparts.

She glanced over at Regulus Black, who was working at the table one over from her. A quick skim of what he'd written so far made it clear that he was planning to take advantages of the broad parameters of the assignment.

Well, then, so would she. If he was allowed to hand in an essay arguing that Muggles were inferior in every way, then she would just have to make sure she presented every single case in which they weren't.

As soon as class was over, she would owl her parents, asking them to send over her aunt's books on martial arts and military strategy. And then, while she waited for them to arrive, she would hit the library.

She had two weeks to write the best thesis she had ever created, and she was going to use every second of it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: assignment


	129. Chances

It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, but she fought the urge to drift off as she circled the campsite, checking that the wards were still alright. They could no longer get by on luck alone; they needed discipline as well.

By the time she returned to the boys, Harry was fast asleep and Ron was set up to take first watch. Hermione hurried to her sleeping bag, knowing that she too should make the most of the chance to rest.

"Regulus?" Hermione whispered into the dark of the tent.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we have a chance of winning? Honestly."

"I don't know," he admitted. "We're searching for treasure without a map. But... but I think we might. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her and even though she absolutely would still be there if they didn't have any hope of succeeding. "Me, too."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: discipline


	130. Growing Apart

Regulus frowned as he sat down beside Hermione. The Daily Prophet was spread out on the table in front of her, opened up to an article about how Harry, Ron, Daphne and Astoria had been sighted at a play in Muggle London. "I thought you wanted to see that," he commented. His tone was light, but he examined his friend's face carefully for her reaction.

She shrugged. "I was thinking about going with you instead."

"Before or after you saw that they'd gone without you?"

"After," she admitted.

He wasn't offended; it had been a tradition for the Gryffindors long before he had come into her life. After the war, Hermione had taken to arranging outings to Muggle London so they could see the world while still avoiding the press. But then something had changed just before he transferred to Hermione's department. He still didn't know what it was, just that it had caused friction between the three war heroes.

"How come you never hang out with Harry and Ron anymore?" he asked. Subtlety had failed; it was time for a more direct approach.

"I do," she protested.

He didn't speak, letting the silence grow between them.

"I _do_. Just... not as much as we used to." Weakly, she concluded, "We've just grown apart."

He shook his head; he could tell that there was more to it that she wasn't comfortable admitting to yet. But he decided it was best to let it be. Instead of pushing for an answer, he asked, "So when do you want to go to see this play?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: silence


	131. Fate

Hermione stared up at the stars, scattered across the dark sky like jewels set into a necklace. Her fingers traced the pattern of a familiar constellation before falling back down to the grass beside her. If it weren't for the distant chatter of the Weasleys, they could have been the only two people in the world. "Do you believe in fate?"

Regulus hesitated for a few seconds before replying, "Yes – sort of."

She laughed and turned to face him. "Sort of?"

"I don't think every little detail is mapped out in advance," he explained, "but I think the big things are."

She nodded, not sure whether to be comforted or disconcerted by his reply. If the big things were already locked in, then did anything they did really matter? Would their side win even if they weren't there? Would they lose even though they were? "So you think the outcome of this war is already set in stone?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

"No matter what we do?" she pressed.

"I don't think the question is where things will end up; it's how we get there. If I'm right, the little things that we _do_ have control over become even more important."

He slipped his hand into hers, and she shuffled over until her head rested on his chest.

"You aren't having second thoughts, are you?"

She scoffed, thinking back to the green-eyed boy who had come barrelling in to save her from the troll when she was twelve years old. From that day on, there had never been any other choice for her. "Never."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: stars


	132. Housemates

A/N: Muggle AU

Prompt: Idea

* * *

"How do you not know how to iron clothes?" Hermione asked, peering at her new housemate with utter incredulity. Regulus was decent for the most part, especially in comparison to some of the shockers she'd found herself with in the past. But, while he was well-mannered and clean enough for her parents to love him, he was clueless when it came to most household tasks. Every few days, she discovered a new task that he just had no idea how to do.

He shrugged, looking completely at ease with the - to her - shocking revelation. "We've already discussed this. I grew up with three live-in maids, so I never had cause to learn."

She groaned. When they'd first met, he had told her that he was moving out of home for the first time so he could learn to be independent. It had taken a few days for her to realise that his quest for independence wasn't about making his own decisions; it was about self-sufficiency. Since she refused to find herself in an arrangement where she shouldered the brunt of the housework, she felt obligated to teach him what she could. "And why didn't you ask about this sort of stuff before you moved out?"

"I did," he said, surprising her, "but they refused to show me what to do. My parents thought I should employ my own maid, you see, and the maids didn't dare oppose them."

"Alright, then," Hermione said, gesturing for him to pick up the shirts he needed ironed for work. "I've got a lot of work to do, so I'm only going to show you this once. Come on."

"Thank you. I'm a quick learner, I promise."

And that was his saving grace. Well, that and his impeccable manners. And the fact that his inheritance was so large that she would never have to worry about him being unable to pay his half of the rent.

His ignorance was frustrating, but, since he was willing to work to change it, she could deal with it. In a few weeks, once they'd dealt with all of the growing pains, she imagined he would shape up into quite a good housemate indeed.


	133. Frankenstein's Monster

A/N: AU in which the second wizarding war lasted several years longer but Sirius and Regulus both survived.

* * *

As Hermione entered the newly refurbished Grimmauld Place, she stopped and admired herself in the mirror Ginny had installed. She adjusted her square headpiece before nodding to herself. Perfect. She wasn't usually one for fashion, but this was one of the few events she would always make an exception for. After one final once-over, she strolled into the dining room, eager to see what the others were wearing.

As she crossed the familiar threshold, someone screamed. Hermione stumbled backwards, pulling her wand from her pants pocket as she scanned the room for danger. Sirius, Ginny and Regulus were all gathered around the large dining table. Regulus was screaming, fear clouding his eyes, while Ginny and Sirius both gaped at her. After a moment, however, recognition dawned on Sirius' face.

He cursed. "Regulus, _no_!"

The next moment, Regulus rammed into Hermione, knocking her to the floor as he shoved her wand aside.

"Ow! Regulus, what's your _problem_?"

"...Hermione?"

" _Yes_."

Regulus was yanked away from her. As Hermione sat up, she saw Sirius standing next to him, his mouth twitching with what looked like amusement. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as Ginny came over to offer her a hand up. Gratefully, she accepted the help. "What was that about?"

"Sorry, Hermione." Her fiancé grimaced. "I thought you were a monster."

Hermione looked down at herself. She had dressed up as Frankenstein's monster, complete with patchwork clothes and – thanks to some skilful Charms work – skin. "Isn't that sort of the point?" Looking up, she was surprised to note that none of the others were wearing costumes. "It's Halloween."

"Wizards don't dress up for Halloween, Hermione," Sirius told her. "I think we all forgot that Muggles _do_."

"Oh." She fidgeted with a flap of loose fabric, regretting that all of her effort had come to nothing. Now that the war had finally ended, she had been looking forward to exploring wizarding Halloween tradition, but she wouldn't feel comfortable wandering the streets of wizarding Britain in costume – not if no one else was.

"But," Ginny cut in, shooting her husband a pointed look, "I'm sure we can all wrangle up costumes as well. It shouldn't be too hard with magic on our side, and a Muggle Halloween sounds fascinating."

"Absolutely," Sirius agreed, his eyes flashing with excitement. "Can we go trick or treating? Lily used to talk about it all the time."

"That sounds excellent," Regulus agreed, though he didn't sound as enthusiastic as the others. He, like Hermione, wasn't one for costume theatre – but she suspected he was trying to make up for tackling her.

Hermione pursed her lips. "It really isn't appropriate to go without a child. I don't suppose you have any temporary De-Ageing Potions?"

"Just lying around? No. But there's an apothecary nearby that might have some. I'll duck over and check." Sirius kissed Ginny lightly before hurrying away.

"And we'll start on the costumes," Regulus said. His eyes scanned Hermione. When his gaze returned to hers, he winced, looking embarrassed to have been caught. "You – Ah, you look lovely, Hermione."

Hermione and Ginny both burst out laughing.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fear


	134. Hope

Hermione paced the room, frustration seeping out of her like water straining to break free of a dam. Regulus and Kreacher had left several hours ago, and as time wore on, her fear had warped into dread. By this stage, there was no doubt that something had to have gone wrong. Had they been delayed? They might have crossed paths with another Death Eater and gotten waylaid – but they would have sent a message back by now, surely. Had they been discovered? Voldemort wasn't one for lenience; if he even suspected where they were…

A hand slipped into hers. "Come play cards with me," Luna suggested, her voice soft and lyrical. "It will help pass the time. To whom, I'm not sure, but it's better than holding onto it until it blows up in your face like that potato Harry was talking about."

"I can't just play games while they're risking their lives." Hermione closed her eyes, regretting not having argued harder to go with Regulus. It had made sense for her to stay out of it – he, if caught, might be able to spin some tale about being there on Voldemort's bidding, whereas her mere presence would have given the ruse away – but her strength might have been useful. It might have been the deciding factor on whether or not they made it out alive. "Luna, if they were alright, they would have contacted the Order by now. But they haven't…"

Luna smiled sadly and squeezed her hand. "There's beauty in hoping even when your head tells you that all is lost. And sometimes, that beauty becomes truth. All you can do in the meantime is have faith."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: beauty


	135. The Ghost

"What made you change sides?" Hermione asked, examining the ghost floating before her with open curiosity.

Regulus Black's translucent yet still aristocratic features pinched into a frown. "I already told you: He left Kreacher for dead."

Hermione glanced over at Kreacher. Unwilling to stray too far from his late master, the house-elf was hovering nearby – close enough to keep an eye on them while still granting them some small degree of privacy. "Oh, I know what you _said_ , and I think it was a very admirable thing for you to do. It's just… There's more to it than that, surely?"

His gaze gleamed with a hint of cruelty. "No. I know you're hoping for some grandiose change of heart when it comes to your kind, but there wasn't one."

Her mouth gaped open. "B-But –"

His eyebrow flicked up in a parody of polite inquiry. "Yes?"

"Then how do we know that the information you're giving the Order is accurate?"

He laughed, and there was a bitter, mocking edge to it. "Whatever you may think, I care about my brother. I want him to survive this war – and that means giving your side the knowledge it needs to win. One day, _Miss_ _Granger_ , you are going to have to learn to work with people of whose motivations you disapprove. Fortunately for you, Albus Dumbledore has already mastered that lesson. Otherwise, I rather think you'd be in for a long and arduous few years."

"But you're talking about working with people who want me dead."

"No." He drew the word out as if speaking to an infant. "I am talking about working with people who are willing to help you."

With that, he turned and glided away through the wall. Noticing his departure, Kreacher hurried after him.

Hermione sank into a chair, her head in her hands. The idea of cooperating with people who hated her for something she couldn't control was repugnant. How could she socialise with them and trust them and rely on them with that knowledge hanging over her head?

But if it meant winning the war, how could she not?

* * *

A/N: Prompt: cruelty


	136. The Rowboat

The water sloshed about beneath Regulus' feet as he dangled his legs over the side of the narrow walk bridge. The sharp wood pressed into the back of his knees, but he ignored the discomfort. It was nothing compared to the turmoil unfurling within him. Far off in the distance, he could see the exact place a stream branched off from the river proper – or, at least, the exact place it became evident. When, exactly, had the path each droplet of water would take been decided? Had they careened off some concealed rock at the last minute, or had their fate been set in motion long prior to that?

Regulus rested his head against the cool metal of the handrail. Whenever he started to doubt his family, he came here for solace. It had eased his concerns and allowed him to return home with a lighter heart. But, this time, it was different. His hands tightened against the bars. They kept him in place, kept him safe... but, for the first time, it also felt like they kept him _back_. Like they _held_ him back. His parents were determined that he not question anything about his upbringing or their beliefs. Was that to protect him or merely to keep him in line?

It was as if he were a small rowboat hurtling down the river. The surge of family expectations pushed him in the direction they wanted him to go – in the direction all of his ancestors had gone. But there was another route he could take if he wanted to. He didn't know where it would lead or what it would bring, just that it was there. But how? When the current dragging him along was so fast and so powerful, how could he escape its grasp?

 _We'll take this one step at a time._ Hermione's voice echoed through his mind. She had been talking about something else entirely, but perhaps it could be applied here as well. Getting from where he was to where he wanted to be would be long, and it would be painful, and it would be arduous. But it was possible if he was willing to put in the effort. Perhaps, if he forgot about all of those things and instead focused on actually dragging the oar through the water, he could become the person he wanted to be.

Perhaps he could reach that stream.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: river


	137. At War

"Get out of my way," Regulus demanded. His hand was clenched so tightly around his wand that Hermione thought he might accidentally snap it. All around them, people were engaged in frantic duels, ducking and weaving and shouting out curse after curse after curse. The air was heavy with the desperation of a battle gone on far too long. "We both know how this will end if you don't."

Hermione tilted her head to the side, a dry smile gracing her lips. Pushing aside the pain of seeing their wands pointing at one another like hands that would never clasp again, she replied, "Do we?"

"I'm willing to kill for my cause. Can you honestly say the same?"

"If it comes down to it." The idea of killing him – of killing _anyone_ – was repugnant to her, but after everything that she had seen and experienced, there was no other answer.

He blinked at her, his expression stunned. "If you're so adamant that each and every life is precious," Regulus finally managed to choke out, "then how can you even think of killing? Isn't that the height of hypocrisy?"

Hermione said nothing as her eyes met his, staring him down, unnerving him. After a long pause, she spoke again. "Quite the opposite, actually. I fight _because_ life is precious. You seek to destroy it, so I seek to stop you. I would rather get through this war without killing anyone, but if doing so is the only way to stop the bloodbath that will occur if we lose..."

"You've changed," he said, and it sounded like an insult.

Yes, she was no longer the innocent little girl she had been the day she first entered Hogwarts. That was the price of the war that _his side_ had forced her into. "So have you. Once upon a time, you would've been appalled at the idea of hurting a twelve-year-old. Now, however, it seems to be just another Tuesday at the office for you."

Regulus flinched. "I wasn't involved in that."

"Really?" she asked, hoping to distract him so that he dropped his guard long enough for her to get a stunner in. She was willing to shoot to kill, but that didn't mean she wanted to – and if they engaged in a proper duel, she might have to. "Because it looked like – "

" _Stupefy_ ," a cold voice murmured, and Regulus fell to the ground to reveal a witch with hair the colour of fire.

"Ginny," Hermione breathed out in relief as she lowered her wand. "Thank you."

"Amycus Carrow killed Fred." Ginny's voice was flat and hollow. "I'm going after him. Are you with me?"

A chill ran through Hermione, but her eyes hardened as she gave her friend a sharp nod. The two young Gryffindors stowed Regulus in a cupboard and cast a series of anti-detection charms over him – it wouldn't do for a Death Eater to revive him and bring him back into the fight – before sprinting off in the direction Ginny had last seen the Carrows.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: precious

I spent most of last week reading HPMoR and my head is still reeling, so there's a good chance the next few chapters will be darker than usual. Just a warning.


	138. On the Ropes

Regulus stared up at the splattering of stars that were scattered across the dark sky. Once, he had belonged up there with the other shining lights. He had been born into it, receiving more by birthright than most could amass in a lifetime. But then he had walked away. Cast out and disowned, he had been left to his own devices – left to live the way those he'd defected to protect lived.

Hermione pulled the Ministry schematics closer to her. A frown was on her face as she surveyed the parchment, trying to calculate the safest way to reach their target. She had been born to this. Three decades of life on the periphery, of a life of rebelling because it was the only option left, had equipped her to dealing with this kind of no-good-outcome situation.

Not like him. "What do we do when we have nothing left?" he asked. When; not if.

She didn't even hesitate. "We keep trying."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dark


	139. Vigilantes

Hermione leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast of red that had been coming straight for her head. Pulling her scarf back over her face, she darted back into the fray, a series of curses leaving her lips with an ease of conscience that only came from years of use. At the other end of the complex, Regulus was struggling to fend off three older assailants. Of course, he didn't look like Regulus – but then, she didn't look like Hermione Granger, either. A mixture of Polyjuice Potion, Disillusionment Charms and Muggle disguises had seen to that.

After all, vigilantism didn't lend itself well to transparency and public self-disclosure. As far as her friends and co-workers knew, she and Regulus were making use of their accrued holidays to take a well-deserved break in the Bahamas.

No one had linked the law-abiding philanthropists with the blond-haired, pale-eyed duo scouring the streets of Wizarding Britain in search of criminals to incapacitate and apprehend.

One of her adversaries fell with a loud cry, and Hermione pressed forward with the advantage. Within moments, another of his mates had joined him in unconsciousness.

She honestly couldn't care less whether they 'slept' well.

Her enemies felled, she sprinted over to help Regulus. Adrenaline rushed through her as she threw herself back into combat.

Once upon a time, she had seen fighting as a necessary evil – terrifying and disturbing but, ultimately, inevitable. For a brief moment after the war, she'd thought her days of battle were over. But then she had entered the Ministry and seen how woefully inadequate their broken legal system was. After years of trying and failing to lock the worst of their criminals behind bars, she and Regulus had decided to try another route. He had quit his job, falling back on the lazy pureblood stereotype to divert suspicion. During the day, she built legal cases while he scoped out local crime rings; at night, they came together to ensure that the criminals they'd both encountered knew not to cross them again.

The scary part was that she had come to enjoy it. She told herself that it was because the alternative was to despise herself, but she knew that was just a lie she spun like a safety net to make herself feel better. Even if they had the ability to go back to how life was before – and given the way the country had come to depend on them, they didn't – she wouldn't take it. It was a part of her now.

A part of them.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: broken

I binge watched _Daredevil, Jessica Jones_ and _Luke Cage_ on Netflix over the past two months, hence the not-so-subtle _Daredevil_ parallels.


	140. To Know Oneself

She was light with the slightest tinge of dark. To her classmates, she was the annoying but selfless girl who insisted on following the rules and exceeding every expectation set for her. Those who knew her well, however, thought differently – that was clear from the cautious little looks they sometimes sent her and the way Marietta refused to even speak her name after the incident with the mysterious pimples.

He knew better, too. He had seen the ambition that burned within her, the ruthlessness that shadowed her eyes, and the amusement whenever Umbridge flinched away from her in the corridors. It wasn't enough – wasn't nearly enough. But it was there and it was real and it was dangerous.

She denied it. Everybody did. But one day, he would make her see.

And the knowledge would kill her.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: ambition


	141. Misunderstood

"Are you going to tell me I'm just misunderstood?" Regulus asked, his words edged with vicious mockery. He went to raise his hands but winced when the handcuffs pulled them back. "That I don't belong here?"

Looking away from the prisoner, Hermione swept her gaze across the padded cell. It was dank and musty, with a thick layer of dust coating the floor. Cleaning obviously wasn't high on the list of his gaoler's priorities.

"No," she said, her voice neither cruel nor forgiving. "I'm not. I think you've been understood perfectly, and while I don't think _anyone_ belongs here, if it's the only thing that keeps you from killing again…"

He laughed, and it was a cold, hard sound that reverberated through the small area like a gunshot. "Then it's for the greater good? How ever do you sleep at night?"

"Knowing that the last of the Death Eaters is currently behind bars?" She waited until his eyes met hers to continue. "Like a baby."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: misunderstood


	142. Later, Perhaps

Hermione burst into the Blacks' living room without a second thought, not registering the precarious situation she was potentially putting herself into until it was too late to do anything to stop it. But in that moment, she was too single-minded to care. "I need to speak to a member of the family," she told the startled house-elf. "It's an emergency."

"How is you getting here?" Kreacher asked, his eyes narrowed in wary suspicion.

Hermione was hit with the uncomfortable fact that, should her answer fail to sway him, _she_ would be the one with a reason for caution. "Sirius let me into the wards years ago," she said, one hand stretched out in front of her to placate him. "That's why –"

"No! Do not speak that foul name here! That traitor is dead to us!"

She hesitated, realising for the first time that they might simply refuse to help her. She'd known they would insult and maybe even curse her, but she'd assumed that they would calm down once she told them why she'd come. "He might be truly dead soon if you don't help me. Whatever your mistress says, I'm sure that she doesn't want her son –"

"She does, actually," a human voice cut her off. "She'd go with you just to laugh at his bedside."

When she turned, the witch was confronted with the very last person she'd hoped to see. From their time together at Hogwarts, it had been clear that Regulus was the kind of person who never did anything unless it served his own interests. Bitter and vindictive as a wasp who would die just to sting someone, he was the type to let his own brother die just to feel good about himself.

"You may leave, Kreacher. There is no reason to bother Mother with this news." Once the grateful house-elf was gone, he asked, "What's wrong with Sirius?"

"I should go. It's clear I made a mistake in coming here."

"You did; quite a few, actually. But you didn't answer my question."

"Your cousin Bellatrix cursed him. It can only be undone with the help of someone from the same bloodline. Andromeda isn't reachable at the moment –"

"She ran off with a Mudblood."

"– so I was hoping to find someone here," she finished, barely faltering at the venom in his words.

"Is it urgent?" he asked, his voice as close to a drawl as anything she had ever heard.

She pushed a curl out of her eyes. "Extremely."

"Let's go, then."

"To laugh at his bedside?" she asked. No matter what he replied, she would take him – Sirius would want to see him regardless, and there was a chance that the Slytherin would be swayed by the sight of his dying brother – but she had to know.

For the briefest of moments, hurt flashed in his eyes – but it was quickly replaced by dry amusement. "Later, perhaps."

 _If the remedy works,_ she finished for him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: emergency


	143. Relief and Hope

Hermione winced as she brushed against the door jam, sending pain ricocheting up and down her arm. It was still highly sensitive after the battle at the Ministry the week prior. All in all, though, she knew that things could have gone much worse; somehow, all seven of them had made it out it one piece.

 _All eight,_ she corrected herself, thinking of Sirius. She had been unconscious for the final skirmish, but from what she'd heard from Ginny, he very nearly hadn't. Bellatrix Lestrange had been casting the Killing Curse when Regulus had hit her in the back with a stunner, stopping her mid-word. If he had been just a moment slower…

She pushed the terrible thought from her mind before it could finish forming. Voldemort was alive and preparing to bring down a storm that would threaten all that they stood for, but she refused to give into the darkness. Instead, she focused on the relief and hope that had been blossoming within her since she first regained consciousness in Hogwarts' hospital wing. They had been outnumbered by people with decades of experience on them, but they had survived. And if they could get through that, they might just have a chance to win the war after all.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: sensitive


	144. Finally, Peace

The first firework shot up into the air like a bullet and burst into a brilliant display of colour. As the sound of the explosion filled the small area, the crowd let out a deafening cheer. The banks of the lake were packed with people, all peering up at the sky. As she leaned into Regulus' side, Hermione felt like everything was finally alright in the world. There were still exams to sit and challenges to face and house-elves to emancipate, but Voldemort had been defeated – destroyed before he'd even returned – and she was finally at peace.

 _They_ were finally at peace.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: explosion


	145. Dance With Me

Hermione laughed and reached out for Regulus' hand. The pub was filled with the noise of their cohort reminiscing uproariously, so it took a few attempts for him to understand her eager words. "Dance with me."

His dark eyes scanned the busy room. Soft music played from an enchanted guitar in the corner, but it was nigh impossible to hear it over the sound of the other patrons. Frowning, he turned back to her. "But all of these people – "

Usually, she would agree with him; not because she was self-conscious, but because it seemed like one of those things that just wasn'tdone. But she was still giddy with the rush of having graduated, and this time, she didn't want to hold it in. The war was over and exams were done; all she wanted was to celebrate.

"Half of them won't even remember this in the morning," she pointed out. She wiggled her fingers. "Come on; dance with me."

This time, he took her hand.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: music


	146. Ball of Fluff

The first thing she noticed were the yellow eyes staring up at her. For a moment, she was taken back to a long-forgotten hallway with a girl and a mirror and a snake that bestowed death wherever it looked. Then the thing made the sweetest little noise she'd ever heard, startling her out of her daze. Blinking, her vision cleared until she was able to focus on the timid kitten that was standing in the middle of her dining table. Its fur was a mix of greys and whites and its eyes were wide and innocent despite their yellow hue. Kneeling down, she slowly reached a hand out towards it, trying not to startle it. It took a few minutes of coaxing, but the little ball of fluffy perfection was soon curled up in her arms, halfway on its way to being asleep.

She looked up at the sound of someone entering the living room. "You bought us a kitten?"

Regulus shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were warm as he watched the creature purr in her arms. "Technically, no. Andie's neighbour's cat had a litter and he's trying to get rid of them, so she asked me if we'd like one. I can take him back if you don't want him, but I thought – "

"No." She smiled down at the kitten cradled in her arms. "I love him."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: perfection


	147. First Thing, Last Thing

The first thing he noticed was that she was bossy – loud and forceful in a way that purebloods girls would never dream of being in public. She spoke as if she knew she was the smartest person in the room and expected everyone to follow her because of it.

"You go that way and I'll check this way," she said, before walking off as if she couldn't conceive of the idea that he might have an alternate suggestion.

He didn't. Still, he would've liked to have been asked.

-x-

The last thing he noticed was that she was bossy – anxious and desperate to be as organised as possible because in a battle like this, disorganised meant dead. She spoke without quaver, even though her eyes were dark with fear.

"You go that way and I'll check this way," she said, before pulling him in for a kiss that, even then, he knew would be their last.

He thought he'd be the one to die.

He wasn't.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: bossy

Sorry.


	148. Becoming

He was cool steel, hardened and grey and armoured. When the world pushed, he stood firm. The hardest of swords bounced off him as ineffectually as mere sticks, irritants that didn't warrant any real thought or riposte.

But she was the furnace, passionate and unyielding and fierce. When the world tried to douse her, her light burned brighter. Without even meaning to, she melted through his defences, leaving him open and vulnerable and giving him the chance to forge himself into something new.

He didn't know who he wanted to become. But for the first time, he realised that he wanted to find out.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: light

Sorry, I've got Skyrim on the brain.


	149. The Wise Old Tree

She was the old, wizened tree whose roots were buried so deeply into the ground that nothing could move her. Her enemies could try to chop her down to size, but she would always grow back again. For she had planted herself on the side of the righteous and refused to ever budge.

He was the wind, cold and easterly and fresh. He had no hope of uprooting her, nor – as time went on – did he want to. But he carried tales of the other side with him, and sometimes, the retelling of those tales would be enough to bustle her leaves and sway her branches and give her cause to think about a topic from a different angle.

She would never fall and never falter, but sometimes, just sometimes, she would change.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: wind


	150. The Invitation

The wedding invitation lay open on the desk before Hermione. It was white with a floral theme and the most delicate of elaborate calligraphy – perfect for the couple in question. And she knew that she would go and smile and be genuinely happy for them.

Nevertheless, part of her ached as she remembered that night in spring when Regulus asked her out. She had wanted to say yes, to explore the feelings that were stirring up between them. But she hadn't been willing to insult herself by agreeing to keep it secret. She'd told him to ask her again when he was ready to do it properly.

Only, he hadn't. He had met another girl and fallen in love with her instead. Emmeline Vance would be the one walking down the aisle to him, not Hermione.

Hermione had seen enough of them together to know that they were as well-suited a couple as ever there was, and that took some of the sting out of the situation. It gave her the strength to accept the invitation, and it would give her the strength to attend the wedding as well. She was happy with her life, and she honestly wished him the best with his.

It was just that, sometimes, she wished he had waited.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: delicate


	151. Spin

"Hermione, they're afraid, just like you," Regulus insisted. His eyes shone with earnestness, but Hermione had long since learned that conviction was not the same as truth. "Their legacy is being threatened. I'm not saying I agree with their decision to side with _him_ , but they're just trying to protect themselves. You have to understand that."

She shook her head, stunned that he would even think to explain away their hatred. "You can use all the pretty words you like, Regulus, but it won't change the fact that, at the end of the day, they would rather kill everyone like me than risk having to change anything about their perfect little lives. That's wrong, no matter how you try to spin it. They're afraid of semantics; I'm afraid of death."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: wrong


	152. Warning

She had been staring across the bar at him for over an hour by the time she moved to the stool next to him and stated matter-of-factly, "I don't trust you."

He had been beginning to think she would chicken out.

Not that it was like a Weasley to be cowardly. It was more likely that it was a failed attempt at intimidation.

"And why is that, Ginevra?" he asked, humouring her. Hermione did, and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. Still, it would be nice to have the support of her friends as well.

She scrunched her face up in distaste at the name but said nothing. "I don't know what you're playing at here, Regulus, but if you hurt her – "

"You'll kill me?"

She scoffed. "And risk prison? Please. But I have six siblings, so I am extremely good at collecting blackmail material. And they were people I _liked_. If you break her trust, I will use every last scrap of evidence I'll have collected about you to make you regret it for a very long time."

Finally, a threat he could respect. Part of him was tempted to see just what she would do if motivated to release the information – not that he would risk his relationship with Hermione over it. "Does that mean I can't break up with her?" he asked, going for glib instead. "I don't intend to, but, you know..."

She didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, she slid off her stool, picked up her drink, and graced him with one last glare. "You're a prat. She's dated prats before, and they've never lasted long. If you actually want this to have a chance of lasting, I would suggest you don't repeat their mistakes."

With that, she turned and flounced back over to the group of girls in the corner. On the whole, however, it had gone better than their last encounter, so he considered it a step in the right direction.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: respect


	153. Not

"I'm not a hero," he'd said. "Don't try to make me someone I'm not."

She'd laughed. "Nobody's a hero until they find the right cause."

"I'm not."

She'd told him – insisted – that just because he didn't fit the Gryffindor model of heroism, it didn't mean he couldn't be one. His own kind. That he would be surprised at what he was capable of.

He'd rolled his eyes but remained silent, and she'd thought she'd won.

But as she stood in front of him as the city fell, begging him to make a difference, she regretted not taking him at his word all those years prior. "You were right," she spat out at him, hoping the taunt would change his mind or at least break that unflappable façade. "You're not a hero."

He looked sad – sombre. She knew this wasn't easy for him either, but it didn't change the decision he was making. "I did warn you," he said, the softness in his voice doing nothing to combat the pain that the words caused her.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: pain


	154. Conspiracy Theories

"Is it true that the royal family were once werewolves? Or cursed?" Hermione asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She had never been one for conspiracy theories; they were unnecessarily convoluted and rarely seemed to have a point. This was different, though. She already knew there was a whole world hidden in shadows of the one she had grown up in. Believing that a few political figures might have had a run-in with that world wasn't much of a stretch.

But Regulus scoffed. "No. They have kept detailed records about wizarding Britain since before the statute was ratified, so the direct lineage knows about us, but they themselves are Muggles."

Her face fell. She had hoped to be able to tell her parents all about it. They would have enjoyed knowing something about them that nobody else in the Muggle world did.

On the other hand, she supposed they would be relieved to know that the queen had centuries of information about the wizarding world at her fingertips. Ever since Hermione restored their memories and caught them up on everything that had happened, they had been concerned that a war might one day break out between the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Knowing that highly qualified people were, in all likelihood, already working on developing anti-magic defences would calm their fears somewhat.

Still, as childish as it sounded, it would have been cool if the royal family were werewolves.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: childish


	155. Don't Wants and Can't Haves

"How did it go?"

"I – The Healer said I can't have children."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock as she looked up from the menu she had been perusing. She'd known that something had been bothering her fiancé for the past few days, but she'd assumed it was Sirius again. Regulus wanted his brother to be his best man – and, deep down, she suspected that Sirius wanted it as well – but they were both too stubborn to discuss it. Apparently, she'd had it all wrong. "Regulus, I…"

"There was a duelling incident several years ago," Regulus elaborated, wincing at the memory. His hands were moving like flies, unable to settle down anywhere for long as they drifted between his napkin and his glass of water. "One of the spells hit me in… And I didn't know it at the time, but…"

"I'm so sorry," she said, setting her menu aside and reaching forward to take his fidgeting hands. "I know you've always wanted an heir to carry on the Black line."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I have. But that's not what I'm worried about. It's just… I know you want children, and I'll never be able to give them to you."

"No," Hermione cut him off. "I don't. I was willing to have one because it was important to you, but I've never felt strongly about it either way."

"Really?"

" _Really._ "

His relief was almost palpable as he gave her a tentative smile.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: heir


	156. Biological

"What are your thoughts on children?" Regulus asked as he sat down next to his girlfriend of two years. In the past few months, their conversations had been getting increasingly serious as they tried to suss out whether the other was right for them in the long-term.

Hermione's eyes didn't stray from her book. "That they're cute but I don't want any of my own."

He grinned. "Same."

"Don't you need an heir?" she asked, finally glancing up at him. "Carry on the Black name and all that?"

He shrugged. "If it comes down to it, I can adopt. Could just find a seventeen-year-old with promise and see if they're interested."

That surprised a laugh out of her. "You would be willing to entrust your entire estate to some kid you barely know? Your mother will be irate."

"Not just any kid. There would be a vetting process."

They watched one another for a moment, then they both relaxed into broad smiles. "So no biological children?" she clarified.

"No biological children."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: estate


	157. Proof

"I'm never going to be good enough for them, am I?" Hermione asked as she twisted her hands around in her lap. "No matter how hard I try, I'll always be lesser – inferior."

"They hate you," Regulus agreed with typical Black callousness, "but it's not because you aren't good enough; it's the other way around. They know that you aren't inferior to them, and they hate you for it."

"That makes no sense," the twelve-year-old protested. "If they know I'm equal to them, why don't they leave me alone?"

"Because you're smashing your way through every falsehood they believe about Muggle-borns. It's harder to defend their prejudice when the proof that they are wrong is staring them in the face."

"So, what, you think I should just stop?" She sounded mortally offended by the notion in the way that only twelve-year-olds could.

"No. I think you should convince the other Muggle-borns in your year to do the same."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: twisted


	158. Another Signatory

"Anything to stand up to that dreadful toad," Hannah declared as she added her name to the growing list of signatures. One of the twins – Hermione wasn't sure which – let out a cheer at that, and it spread through the gathered students like wildfire. Before long, everyone was making some sort of defiant statement as they committed themselves to the newly formed DA.

Smiling at the prospect of a job well done, Hermione settled back into her seat. It was easy, at times like that, to feel like the hope they all held in their hearts would be enough to vanquish their enemies. Even though she knew it would take a lot more effort than that, the thought was comforting. She was sixteen years old and mounting a rebellion; she could use all the reassurance she could get.

A small bell sounded as another customer entered the shop. The gathering fell silent. Harry gestured for the group to act natural, but few paid him any mind. For another student, bedecked in green and silver, was making his way through the Hog's Head to stand beside them.

"May I join you?"

"Regulus," Hermione breathed out. "I didn't think you were coming."

"Neither did I," he admitted. "But I figured that it would be safer overall to take a small risk now than to be unprepared in the case of war. So, may I?"

"I never thought a Slytherin would want be part of this," Harry said. Sensing the growing discord among the group, he added, "But if you do, and if you sign the same paper everyone else did, then I don't see why not. You'll be taking the same risks everyone else is."

"You're writing all of your names in one spot? That's just asking for trouble." Noticing the glares that the group sent his way, he added, "Fine, just give me the thing and I'll sign it, if that's what it takes."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: rebellion


	159. On the Topic of Children

"Isn't it just wonderful?" Mrs Weasley gushed as she caught Hermione on the younger witch's way into the Burrow. Almost instinctively, she started fussing over Hermione's clothes as if she were a kitten in need of grooming. "With Ron just married, and you and Regulus getting engaged so soon after Harry and Ginny did, you'll all be having kids around the same time. Just imagine when they get to Hogwarts!"

Hermione winced. She had expected Mrs Weasley to broach the topic eventually, but she'd hoped it wouldn't be for a while yet. "That does sound lovely, and I'm looking forward to seeing another generation of young ones off at the station," she hedged, "but Regulus and I have decided that we don't want to have children. We're more than happy just playing aunt and uncle to everyone else's kids."

Mrs Weasley frowned, but her voice was deceptively light when she replied, "Now, now, it isn't nice to joke about such things."

"I'm not joking. We like children well enough, but that's not how either of us envision our lives. We would rather focus on other things instead."

"You're still so young. You'll reconsider it one day." From the gleam in the woman's eyes, it was quite obvious that she thought it impossible that said reconsideration would result in anything _other_ than a change of heart.

It was tempting to correct her, but Hermione decided to ignore the implication for the sake of her sanity. If she had to spend any more time debating the virtues of parenthood with Mrs Weasley, she just might start looking into permanent contraceptive measures. She would have to look into enforcing the idea of boundaries. Unfortunately, given what she'd seen of the Weasley brood, she didn't think she would have much success.

"We're going to discuss it again in ten years," she said, settling for firm but polite, "but neither of us expect our feelings on the matter to change. It could happen, I suppose, but there are so many other things that we want to do more."

"What could be more fulfilling than – "

"Is that Ginny?" Hermione asked, craning her neck as if to listen to some far-off noise. "I should probably go and let her know I'm here. I don't want to keep her waiting."

She was moving before she had even finished speaking.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: boundaries


	160. Enough

She wanted to go back to how things were, but she couldn't. Not anymore. She had believed him when he said he loved her, and deep down, she still did. But that wasn't enough. It went against every fairytale she had read as a child, but sometimes, love wasn't enough.

It had become clear that he saw her as an exception; she was the lone Muggle-born who had proven herself somewhat worthy of his time. He saw it as a sign of how much he cared – after all, he was willing to put aside his prejudices for her – but she just saw it as an insult. If the only time he could be bothered respecting Muggle-borns was when they had use to him, what did that say about her?

It wasn't sweet, and it wasn't complimentary, and, no, it wasn't enough.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: love


	161. Invincible

"I get where Voldemort's coming from," Regulus announced, staring up at the rising sun. "I wish we could never age. Stay like this forever. Be invincible."

Hermione glanced over at her adoptive brother and snorted. "I don't."

"Is it the living longer than your loved ones thing?"

"Not exactly. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bit of a loner. As long as you and Barty were alright, I don't think I would mind. It's just… we're fourteen, Regulus. Our brains aren't fully developed yet, and no one would take us seriously. If I was going to become immortal, I would wait until I was bit older first."

"But, just to clarify, you're open to the idea of immortality one day?"

She grinned. "Aren't you?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: invincible


	162. Unforgiveable

"You have to mean it, Granger," he said, dancing back as spells flashed and exploded around them. "You can't just say the words; you have to mean them right down to your bones – in your very soul. Do you have that much hatred in you? Can you even conceive of it?"

She had never cast an Unforgiveable Curse before; she'd never had to. But as they stared across the battlefield at one another, she suddenly felt like she'd done it hundreds of times. This man had targeted her friends again and again, and if she let him, he could continue doing so until there was nobody left to target. The only way of protecting them was to stop him first. Gripping her wand tighter, she focused on all of the fear and loss he had caused over the years. "I don't think that will be a problem, Black."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Unforgiveable Curse


	163. The Goblet of Fire

Hermione frowned as she tried to ignore the constant gossip that was swirling about through the school corridors. It was as if nobody could think of anything better to talk about than the stupid tournament. She had been excited when she'd first heard of it, seeing it as a great opportunity to see how different societies and cultures coped with and handled magic. But it was becoming clear that the only people who would actually get a chance to mingle with them on a casual basis were the Ravenclaw and Slytherin students. Regulus was relaying information back to her, but it wasn't the same thing.

"I heard Regulus Black put his name into the Goblet last night," a young boy in a red scarf told his friend as she passed them by. "I didn't think he'd have the guts to do it."

"Well, he _is_ a Black," his friend replied. "I bet he knows all sorts of nasty curses."

Scowling, Hermione hastened her pace, wanting to get to the quiet of the library before she overheard anything that might make her morning even worse.

-x-

She had been studying for an hour when Regulus appeared, looking extremely pleased with himself. At first, she considered ignoring him, but she was burning with exasperation. He had assured her that he wasn't going to put his name in, and she had been counting on a year without having to worry that one of her loved ones was going to die. "You said you weren't going to put your name in," she said, trying and failing to sound disinterested. "You said that your parents were pressuring you to but you didn't want to. What changed?"

"Nothing," her boyfriend replied, sounding entirely too smug for someone who had put his name into a tournament he had no interest in.

" _Nothing_? Then why – "

He sat down next to her and leaned into whisper, "I didn't do it," into her ear. After a moment, he withdrew and reached over to pull a textbook out of his bag.

"Pardon?"

"I just told everyone I did. This way, my parents and classmates will be satisfied that I tried my best, but I won't have to risk my life over something as trite as an interschool game."

"You didn't do it," she repeated.

Regulus grinned. "I didn't do it."

"But everyone's going to think that the person who _does_ get in beat you. They're going to assume – "

"I'm not a Gryffindor, Hermione. I think I can handle admitting that at least _one_ person in the school is more suited to daring feats of heroism than I am."

She breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, the tension that had underlined her every move since overhearing the news faded away, leaving nothing but relief and a faint stirring of pride in its wake. "Thank you for not putting your name in."

"Anytime," he quipped.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: game


	164. In the Business of Revenge

"I heard you're the person to go to when you want to get revenge."

"You heard correctly." Regulus looked up and barely concealed his surprise when he saw none other than Hermione Granger standing in front of him. She was hovering in the doorway of the empty classroom as if she couldn't quite decide if she was in or out. "Who ruffled your feathers this badly? Aren't you Gryffindors supposed to turn the other cheek and all that?"

Very few of the students who came to him for little pranks and jinxes – nothing serious; just enough to mildly irritate without drawing the attention of the professors – were from Gryffindor. After all, he was geared towards people who wanted to get their frustration out of their system without rocking the boat, whereas the house of the brave – or, in his opinion, the stupid – preferred to deal with things head-on, no matter who fell overboard in the process. He wondered how long it would take for her to track down the person who'd wronged her and confess.

"We're also supposed to be noble and loyal, but apparently a particular someone can't quite manage that."

His eyebrows shot up at the venom in her voice. "Vicious."

"Cheating usually is."

"It's Weasley, then? Do you have anything in mind?"

For a moment, her stony expression fractured, revealing the doubt she had been trying to hide. She glanced over her shoulder as if wondering whether it was too late to leave.

Then, to his surprise, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her. "I have a few ideas."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: revenge

I can't see Ron physically cheating on Hermione, but I wanted to explore her ruthless streak and needed a catalyst for that.


	165. Moon

He reminds her of the moon.

During the day, when he is in a crowd of people, he fades into the background, lost to their shining ambiance. He is still visible, but it takes a concentrated effort to find him.

But during the night, when it's just him and her, he can be himself. It's then that his light shines clear and true, cutting through the darkness and pulling her in. The difference is stark and breathtaking and undeniably real.

So when her friends tell her that he's holding back on her, she just laughs and shakes her head. She appreciates where they're coming from, but she knows that they're wrong. She only hopes that, one day, they will see it, too.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: difference


	166. Quidditch Mornings

Hermione tightened the oversized green scarf around her neck as she trudged through the thick snow that stretched out between the castle and the Quidditch pitch. A crowd was already starting to gather, and she reluctantly joined the throng of people making their way into the stands.

The idea of voluntarily watching a sport that often resulted in her friends getting injured still seemed counterintuitive to her. She didn't see how watching them risk their health could be considered fun, or how supporting them in that endeavour was looking out for their best interests, or even how there being one less person in the crowd would make an iota of a difference to their morning.

Nevertheless, they always seemed to appreciate her presence there, and it did give her the opportunity to sit next to Regulus without having to deal with their housemates' knowing glances. His caustic commentary was the one thing that make the sport bearable, and he never mocked her for not knowing the rules or recognising the common plays. The others liked to take advantage of the fact that Quidditch was the one thing they knew more than her about, but he never did. If anything, he enjoyed her insistence that the sport was illogical and overrated; in fact, she suspected that he secretly agreed.

All in all, they had a good system going. As she caught sight of him in their usual spot in the stands, his jumper slung across the seat beside him to keep anyone from taking it before she got there, warmth filled her chest. For the first time, she felt herself actively anticipate a game of Quidditch.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: health


	167. Musings

Hermione examined the names on the Black family tapestry. The wealth of history contained in the interwoven fabrics was awe-inspiring, yet she couldn't help but pity the family for its close-minded ignorance. How much knowledge and experience had it cost them? How much culture had they lost out on simply because they weren't willing to share what they already had?

And there she was, possibly the first Muggle-born to ever set foot inside the house. It was unfair that it came down to who she was friends with, but she was eager to make use of this unique opportunity.

She reached up to touch the hole that had been left behind when Sirius was blasted off the tapestry. Then, slowly, her fingers drifted across to the name next to it.

Regulus Black. 1961 to 1979.

Part of her hated him on principle. He hadn't been much older than she was when he decided to pledge his life to eradicating her kind. He hadn't just leapt down the rabbit hole; he had decided to drag other people down with him. She supposed, in a way, it was good that he hadn't had more the time to infect the world with his poison.

On the other hand, she had seen firsthand the vitriol that his parents had spewed. She had witnessed the way it still messed with Sirius' head. Sirius had been brave enough to choose friendship and humanity, but even he hadn't escaped unscathed. His past was his shadow, the thing everyone pretended not to see even when it was staring them in the face. How much more, then, had growing up in that environment messed with Regulus' head? If he'd had longer to live, would he have changed sides? If he'd had the chance to step outside of the cult he'd grown up in and see the world through fresh eyes, would he too have thrown off the shackles of hatred? Or would he have been impervious to all reason and sense?

She honestly didn't know. Staring up at the tapestry, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. It was easy to blame and despite full-grown Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. They were old enough to make decisions on their own. But Regulus Black had been a child in all but name when he died, and it left her with the uncomfortable feeling that, perhaps, things weren't as black and white as she'd first thought.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: hole


	168. The Ideal Son

"What were your parents like when you were young?" Hermione asked once the newlyweds were far enough away from the entrance to be sure that they wouldn't disturb the portrait of Walburga Black. After spending a solid fifteen minutes struggling to quiet the woman's shrieks about Hermione corrupting the House of Black, she didn't fancy the idea of rousing her again. "I know Sirius hated them, but he said the three of you were always close."

Regulus sighed. "Sirius only ever sees what he wants to see. He was the one who didn't toe the family line, so that had to mean he was the odd one out."

Hermione had noticed that, actually, but she'd assumed it was a result of everything he had been through in Azkaban. She'd never imagined that he might have been like that beforehand as well. "But he wasn't?"

"In a way, he was. But not always. Have you ever heard of the phrase 'an heir and a spare'?"

She winced in disgust. " _Yes_."

"That was me; I was the spare." He paused to collect himself before continuing. "For the first nine years of my life, my parents focused entirely on Sirius. They spent all their energy trying to shape him into the perfect pureblood heir. He found it boring, and as he got older, he started to rebel, but they kept trying. I did everything they asked me to, but they were so focused on him that it felt like they never seemed to notice."

Not for the first time, Hermione was grateful she was an only child. As much as she had wanted a brother or sister to explore the world with, she was glad that she'd never had to share her parents with anybody.

"It was only when he was sorted into Gryffindor and started denouncing blood purity that they realised they might need a replacement after all," he continued, "and it was then that they turned to me. They didn't give up on Sirius, but they started teaching me as well."

"But Sirius has always said that you were their ideal son."

"I suppose I was; I had spent so much time trying to please them that I stepped into the role almost seamlessly. When Sirius begged me to run away with him instead of joining the Death Eaters, I said no. He had been out of my life for over a year by then, and I was enjoying being seen for once. It wasn't until much later that I realised that the son they wanted was no more me than it was him."

"And by then it was too late."

"Yes."

"Have you ever told him this – your side, I mean? It might help him understand."

"No, and I'm not going to."

She hesitated, not wanting to overstep yet unable to hold her tongue. "But why? I really think – "

"We're finally starting to get along again, Hermione. We were in the same room for two hours this morning without yelling once. For us, that's huge. If I tell him my side, he'll think I'm just trying to excuse my actions – it'll ruin everything we're working towards."

"So you're just going to let him think that you agreed with the Death Eaters?"

"Didn't I? Whether I was doing it for my parents or for myself, I still did it. I still made that choice." Hermione was about to protest, but he continued, "I might tell him eventually. But not now."

She disagreed with his decision – yes, Regulus was responsible for actions back then, but it would help Sirius understand why he had refused to run away with him – but she had no other option but to resign herself to it for now. "Alright," she agreed. "I can respect that."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: replacement


	169. Outsiders

"Have you ever noticed," she began, dragging her toe through the water to create ripples across its surface, "that magical silence never feels quite as peaceful as the real thing? Even when you don't know it's been cast, there's something stilted about it."

"Like something's missing," he said, nodding. "Like something that should be there isn't."

"For me, it's more like something that shouldn't be there is – some kind of barrier or something."

He hummed under his breath as he tore a stray leaf into tiny pieces. "You noticed, then."

"Yes." Hermione glanced over at the Order of the Phoenix, who seemed to be in deep conversation. "Regulus, what don't they want us to hear?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: phoenix


	170. Pirates or Ninjas

"Would you rather be a pirate or a ninja?" Sophie asked as she settled in on the lounge beside Hermione and Regulus, a bag of chips in hand.

Hermione frowned at her fifteen-year-old cousin. What kind of a question was that? "Pardon?"

"Don't tell me you don't know how to play Would You Rather." The younger girl huffed and rolled her eyes. "It's, like, universal. Don't all high school students play it, even kooky boarding school ones like you? Someone says two equally amazing – or equally horrific – things and the others have to choose which one they'd rather. Sometimes you explain why, sometimes you don't."

"No, I daresay there are a lot of places where people play other games instead," Hermione retorted. But she had promised herself to do her best to reconnect with her Muggle family now that the war was over and the danger was gone, and if that meant playing silly party games, then so be it. "A ninja. I've always admired how refined and effective they are; besides, pirates are too bawdy and vulgar for my taste."

Regulus laughed. "So it's like the difference between Gryffindors and Slytherins," he whispered to her, quiet enough that Sophie couldn't hear.

Hermione ignored him, but she had to agree. Pirates and ninjas embodied, respectively, the best and worst of Gryffindor and Slytherin. It pained her that her favourite was the one that would be at home with the snakes. "What about you, Regulus?"

"Ninjas," he replied, grinning broadly. "Was there ever any doubt?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: party


	171. Boarding the Train

"Don't forget to visit Hagrid," Hermione reminded her daughters as they slowed to a stop on the bustling platform. "It gets lonely in his hut sometimes, and he would love to have company every now and again."

"Just remember to use a Softening Charm before you eat anything he gives you," Regulus said. "He makes them for half-giants, not children. And don't go anywhere near the Forbidden Forest. It's prohibited for a reason, no matter what your so-called cousins say."

"That's just silly–"

"But Mum and Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron used to –"

"– why would we even _want_ to –"

"– so it's really not fair at all to tell us that _we_ can't –"

The two eleven-year-olds cut off mid-sentence and turned to look at one another in matching horror.

"You _want_ to go in there?" Lucy asked.

"You _don't_?" Nysa shot back. "After all the stories they've told us about how interesting it is in there?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her temple. "That was _not_ supposed to be the moral of those stories."

"If we ever hear about either of you going in there, on detention or otherwise, we'll transfer you to Beauxbatons."

Hermione hesitated. Hogwarts had become a home away from home for both her and Regulus, and she couldn't imagine sending their girls anywhere else. At the same time, she knew how dangerous it could be there, especially when one went looking for trouble. If threatening Nysa with changing schools was the only way to get her to behave, it was worth it. "Your father's right, sweetheart."

The girls frowned but wisely chose not to protest. Lucy figured that it wouldn't affect her anyway since she had no intention of ever setting foot in the place, while Nysa knew that no amount of arguing would change her parents' minds.

Within a few seconds, however, they had both bounced back with the elasticity that came with being young and excited. They were soon chatting happily about the house they wanted to be sorted into – Ravenclaw for Lucy, Slytherin or Gryffindor for Nysa – as they waited for their extended family to arrive so they could all board the train together.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Forbidden Forest


	172. Information

A/N: Set during the trio's sixth year in an AU in which Dumbledore died in the Department of Mysteries.

* * *

"Black says he has information about why Voldemort survived that night."

"That's wonderful, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. They had been trying to get information out of him for months, but so far, he had remained as tight-lipped as a goblin's purse. Getting him to admit to an involvement in Voldemort's schemes was a real breakthrough – the first one they'd had in a long time. It was a sign that he might be ready to talk, which could be just what they needed to work out what Horcrux, the strange word Dumbledore had encoded in the book he left to her, meant. But, to her dismay, Harry didn't look at all triumphant; his face was twisted into a sour expression that would have been more befitting to a loss than a victory. "What's wrong?"

"He says you're the only one he'll give it to." Harry didn't meet her gaze, but his shoulders were tense.

Her good cheer evaporated with his words. Ever since school, the arrogant Slytherin had enjoyed tormenting her by demanding her attention only to insult her once he had it. In all likelihood, that was all he wanted this time as well. It was tempting to refuse; after all, games were meaningless if the other person refused to play. But, at the end of the day, he was the only person they knew who might actually have the information they were looking for. As unsuccessful as their dealings with him had been to date, it felt irresponsible not to use the chance to talk him over to their side.

"I'll do it."

"What? No," Ron cut in. "The way he looks at you, Hermione... It's not worth it."

"If he has information, Ron, it might be."

"But he never does!"

"I think he might be telling the truth this time," Harry said, still looking anywhere but her. "But Ron's right; you don't have to do this."

She sighed. "Thank you, but I think we all know that I do. We're no closer to finding out what to do than we were when Dumbledore died, and this is our first chance to make real progress. I'm going."

Harry and Ron glanced at one another and seemed to realise simultaneously that they wouldn't be able to talk her out of it.

"Only if Harry and I can be there under the cloak in case things go sour," Ron said.

"Alright?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "Alright."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: breakthrough


	173. One Decisive Step

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as they stood at the edge of the green-tinted lake. The cave was filled with a rotten smell, like food that had been left out for way too long. She didn't want to think about what might lurk under its murky depths; knowing Voldemort, it was anything but pleasant. A small rowboat rested on the shore, presenting the only way of crossing the water.

Harry walked up to the edge of the water and examined the boat carefully. "It will only hold one of us. That's what Kreacher said, isn't it? He said that was why he –" He cut off when he saw Regulus' pale face. "He said that was why."

"The rest of us should wait here," Ron said. "It looks like it's where the ground is the closest distance to the island. Spells won't get that far, but we'll be useful earlier."

"I'll go," Harry offered.

Regulus shook his head, his expression grim. "No, I will. He might have put up blood-specific defences, so that counts you and Hermione out. Besides, it's my house-elf he hurt. I need to do this for him – I want to do this for him."

For the first time, Ron looked at Regulus with something akin to respect.

"Be careful," Hermione said, taking his hand and giving it a soft squeeze.

He nodded before taking a decisive step into the boat.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: rotten


	174. Compromise

"Come on," Hermione urged Regulus as they hurried up the long driveway to her parents' house. They had intended to get there half an hour early so they could announce their engagement to her parents before the other party guests arrived, but Crookshanks had had other ideas. As it was, she was simply hoping to get in a few minutes alone with them. "We're going to be late if we don't hurry."

"I'm still not sure why we have to do this tonight," he protested, but he nevertheless picked up his pace to keep in line with her. "Why not wait until we make it public?"

"Because they're my parents, and I should be the one to tell them."

"We're not telling _my_ parents personally," he pointed out.

Despite the rush, she paused for a moment for emphasis. "Do you honestly want us to?"

He winced at the thought. "Fair point."

Noticing the discomfort in his eyes, she relented. "How about we tell them afterwards instead? That way, we won't have to put up with people asking us about it all evening."

"Are you alright with that?"

She smiled and slipped the ring off her finger, conjuring a chain to slip it onto so she could wear it around her neck instead. "Of course I am."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: ring


	175. Exposed

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Regulus asked, staring out across the dark water of the lagoon. It was still and quiet – tranquil. If anything, he thought it was a little _too_ quiet. He felt exposed, vulnerable. He wanted to conceal himself in double meanings and distractions, but in that vast expanse of soundless space, there was nowhere to hide.

Hermione scoffed. "No. That's just nonsense."

"Oh. Yeah, me, neither."

-x-

Seventeen years later, on the eve of their wedding, he asked her again. It had felt like a lifetime had passed since that day by the lagoon; in a way, many had.

And this time, she said yes.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: nonsense


	176. Roadtrip

Regulus eyed the car nervously. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a sleek, shiny carriage, but he had seen the peculiar controls that were used to drive the thing. Furthermore, he knew how fast it could go. Flying was easy; this looked like it was just asking for trouble. "This driving thing sounds dangerous."

Harry grinned. "You have no idea."

" _Harry_." Hermione shook her head in disapproval. "Regulus, we'll be fine. I'm a safe driver."

But Regulus noted with no small amount of concern that she hadn't denied Harry's statement. Shemight be a safe _driver_ , but that didn't mean that driving _itself_ was safe. "You're sure it's the only way to get there?" he asked, already starting to feel queasy.

Hermione frowned. "Unfortunately, yes. Public transport doesn't go up that far, neither Harry nor I have been there before, and there are no fireplaces connected to the Floo Network in that area. It's this or nothing."

For a moment, he was tempted to opt for nothing; it would be much less stressful than taking his chances with the car. But Hermione had been planning the vacation for days and he didn't want to ruin it for her.

"Alright," he said. "Then let's do this."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: vacation


	177. Discussions

Regulus stepped through the front door of Hermione's small apartment and immediately winced at the sudden wave of heat. The place was cheap and was close enough to Muggle facilities that she could easily get there through non-magical means, but its ventilation system left a lot to be desired.

"You get the windows?" he suggested as he took the groceries over to the kitchen counter and started unpacking them.

Flicking her wand to open them all, and then again to cast a Cooling Charm, she replied, "I wish I could cast a permanent Moderate Temperature Charm, but since no one here knows about magic…"

"Better safe than sorry. I know."

"But I've been looking into places we could live after the wedding," she continued, going over to help him put the food away. "I've found a lovely little village with a decent wizarding population about twenty kilometres from the city. It has a few houses on the market, and it's close enough that travel shouldn't be a problem."

He hesitated. From her description, the town sounded ideal, but her voice was guarded – there was something she wasn't saying. After a moment, the pieces fell together. "It's Godric Hollow, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," she said. "I know you don't like the name, but I keep coming back to it as the only real option. Nowhere else meets all of our requirements."

"What about Darlingstown? It was nice."

"The Muggles are planning on building a major thoroughfare nearby and making it into a tourist town."

Regulus didn't want to admit it, but she was right. If Darlingstown was going to become a tourist location, there would be a lot of curious Muggles wandering around. That would mean increased traffic for her and a higher likelihood of getting caught using magic for him. "Alright," he said. He still hated the name, but if that was the only problem with it, he supposed it was worth checking it out. "I'll give it a chance."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: nowhere


	178. Instinctive

"Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you had been born to Muggles instead?" Hermione asked as she skimmed through yet another ancient tome in the hope of finding something that could destroy Horcruxes. Ever since Kreacher had come back from that forsaken cave, they had spent every moment they could trying to find out more about the mysterious locket.

Regulus shivered in instinctive disgust. A look of regret followed close on its heels and he quickly tried to cover his moment of weakness, but it was too late.

She supposed that it was just part of the process; he might know intellectually that Muggles were his equals, but he hadn't yet interacted with them firsthand. Until he did, some part of him would always wonder whether what his parents had told him really was true. Nevertheless, knowing that, after everything they had been through, her birth culture still disturbed him – that hurt.

His gaze met hers and she held it for a second, letting him know that she had noticed his reaction, before returning to the book without another word. For now, the most pressing issue was killing Voldemort. She would deal with his lingering prejudices later.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: regret


	179. Hostage

Regulus awoke as his head breached the surface of the dark lake. Spluttering indignantly, he struggled to wipe the water from his eyes while staying afloat... only to find that there was a squishy tubular object around his waist that was keeping him above the water. He wanted to poke it but was worried that it might break it.

Hermione's voice cut through his thoughts. "It seemed like the quickest way to get us back to the surface."

He glanced over at her. Her hair stuck to her head like plaster, but she was grinning broadly. Slowly, his memories returned, and he started to piece together what had happened. "Did we get back within the hour?" he asked, remembering what the professors had said when they pulled him aside to ask him to participate in the Triwizard Tournament as Hermione's hostage.

She glanced down at her wrist, where she had magically charmed her watch to operate underwater. "Yeah; fifty-five minutes. Let's get back to the jetty – I want to see if anyone else is back yet."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: memories


	180. Research

"May I help you?"

Hermione's head jerked up at the interruption. Covering the book on ancient magical creatures with her Potions textbook, she looked up at the boy – she wished she could say she didn't know who he was, but his black hair and grey eyes screamed Black – as innocently as she could manage. "With what?"

Regulus rolled his eyes. "With finding out what the monster is, of course," he said. "Not all of us want you dead, you know, and it might help to have a Slytherin's take on things."

She hesitated. Apart from a few brief exchanges in class, she had never spoken to him before, and it felt unnatural to trust him with her research so far. But he did have a point, and she supposed there was no harm in it. As long as she only spent time with him in the library or other public areas, and as long as she told Susan who she was with as an added precaution, he shouldn't be able to do anything to her without attracting unwanted attention. "Alright. I suppose I could use another set of eyes."

He smiled, and she prayed she had made the right decision. "What have you got so far?"

"Not much. Here are my notes." She slid the parchment towards him before pointing to a nearby stack of books. "They're the books I haven't gotten to yet. You can start wherever you like."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: interruption


	181. The Next Horcrux

Grimmauld Place materialised before her like something out of a gothic storybook. Old and magical and filled to the brink with dark and objects and history, it felt like the final step before the big boss fight. The knowledge that the next Horcrux was in there, hidden by the teenaged Bellatrix in one of the few places that she was certain none but a Black would fit it, didn't help. Regulus had tinkered with the wards so that they would admit her without harm, but the fact that he'd _had_ to set her on edge.

"Are you sure about this?" Hermione asked as they stared up at his childhood home. "We might only have one shot at this. If anyone catches us –"

Regulus cut her off. "They won't. My parents are at a fundraiser, and Kreacher won't tell a soul if I ask him not to."

"He's physically incapable of lying to your parents," she pointed out.

"That's only if they ask him directly. He's very good at giving non-answers."

"Alright," she said with a sigh. "Let's do this."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: home


	182. Reconnecting

Regulus' hands fidgeted as he sat across the table from his brother. The last time they had met, they had parted on less than stellar terms. While Reg no longer held Sirius any ill regard, the memory of that fight filled the space between them like a wall of rock-solid ice. The slippery surface had no handholds and, while he was sure that it was theoretically possible for _someone_ to breach it, he had no idea where to start.

His instincts told him to just leave; it would be simpler that way – easier. But he knew he couldn't. As Hermione had pointed out, they were on the cusp of a war in which there would be no guarantees. If the brothers didn't make amends now, they might never get the chance again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was an idiot."

And just like that, the first hint of sun peeked out between the clouds, and the wall of ice that separated them slowly started to melt.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: wall


	183. Breather

"This younger brother of Sirius' is cute," Ginny commented as she collapsed onto the bed beside Hermione. Noise from the welcome-back party being held a floor below drifted through the closed door of their shared bedroom, but the fourteen-year-old staunchly ignored it. The girls had excused themselves for a few minutes for a breather under the guise of needing the bathroom, and she wanted to make the most of it. It had been difficult to get the opportunity to talk alone lately; in any house that contained the twins, wanting to talk privately for any real length of time was viewed as an invitation to eavesdrop. "Don't you think –"

" _No_ , Ginny."

"What? You don't think he's attractive?"

Hermione's voice dropped to a whisper. She was aware of the twins' proclivity for sneaking around and didn't want to risk being overheard. "Of course, he is. He's a Black; it comes with the territory. But he's thirty years older than us, so it's also incredibly creepy."

Ginny laughed, but she followed Hermione's suit and lowered her voice as well. "Seriously, Hermione, I'm hardly going to _act_ on it – just think about it. Besides, you're one to talk. Weren't you, like, totally infatuated Lockhart when you were twelve?"

"Yes, I was. And I learned my lesson," Hermione replied, her embarrassment making her tone short and prim.

Ginny was just about to reply with a glib remark about how she had apparently relapsed since then, given that she'd also had a bit of a crush on Lupin, when a knock on the door cut her off. "Who is it?"

"It's me," a boy's voice called back unhelpfully. After a moment, he seemed to realise his mistake, for he added, "Harry, I mean."

Her first instinct was to stall him for as long as she could, perhaps even to pretend that Hermione was elsewhere so he would go looking for her instead. But she stamped down on the urge. She was fourteen, not ten, and she was over letting her feelings for him keep her from being herself. Both girls sat up, but Ginny very purposefully did not bother fixing her hair or the wrinkles in her clothes. "Come in."

He did, looking tired and overwhelmed. "Do you mind if I stay here with the two of you for a while? Ron's still upset that Dumbledore made me prefect, even though he doesn't want to be, so it's getting a bit tense."

"Sure," Hermione said. "We were just talking about how where we'd like to travel one day. Ginny likes the idea of Cambodia."

"Oh, really?" Harry sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed. "Why is that?"

Grateful that Hermione had picked a topic that they actually _had_ talked about recently, Ginny smiled and started to talk.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: whisper


	184. Bugging the Bug

Regulus and Hermione peered through the clear container, watching as the beetle trapped within scurried about in a panic. It looked like she was torn between searching for a way out and trying to avoid the teenagers' curious faces.

"It's strange to see such a tiny Animagus," Hermione mused. "I knew it was theoretically possible, even though it goes against everything I learned about science as a kid, but it's such a stark difference from the Marauders' forms. Even Pettigrew was bigger than her."

Regulus nodded. It was hard to reconcile the scared animal with the reporter they had come to know and hate over the course of the year. Tapping on the side of the glass, his eyes followed the beetle that was a human that was pretending to be a beetle as she instinctively scurried away from the noise. "We should turn her in. What she's doing here has got to break several different laws."

"What would happen to her?"

"Between being an illegal Animagus and sneaking onto the school without permission to spy on underage students, most likely Azkaban."

For a moment, Regulus thought Hermione was going to agree. She had a ruthless glint in her eye, and she seemed to very much want her personal arch-nemesis – which was how he'd titled Rita Skeeter in his mind – to go to prison. But when she spoke, she surprised him.

"No," she said. "If there's one thing we learned from third year, it's that nobody deserves the Dementors. We can't do that to her; if it comes down to it, I'd rather keep her as a pet."

He honestly wasn't sure whether that was better or worse. From the way the beetle stopped her scampering in order to stare up at the girl in shock, he thought that even Skeeter might not know. "I have another idea," he said. "What about blackmail?"

"It certainly sounds easier than working out what kind of diet a beetle who's really a human should follow," she said brightly, as if she truly didn't have any qualms about either course of action.

If Regulus were a betting wizard, he would say that Hermione was just faking it in order to make sure Rita Skeeter thought twice before crossing her – or Hogwarts' borders – ever again.

But he was glad that he wasn't, because in this case, he wasn't sure if he would get his money back.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: animal


	185. Under the Circumstances

"Isn't this precious?" Bellatrix cackled, stepping forward to knock Hermione's hand away. "A ring, eh? Who's it from – Potter or Weasley? Maybe I should bring him back up here after all so he can watch as I kill you."

Before Hermione could reply, four figures burst into the room, sending spells flying every which way. She smiled as she recognised the group. Harry and Ron, of course – they must have escaped the dungeon somehow – but also Regulus and, although he looked like he would rather be anywhere else, Kreacher.

Bellatrix cried out in outrage as she too recognised the newcomers, but Hermione didn't pay her any mind. She darted away from the older witch, sprinting back to the safety of her friends. Taking her wand back from Harry, she turned and pointed it at her erstwhile captor. "It's from your cousin, actually," she said cheerfully. "It belonged to your grandmother, but I suppose I can forgive you for not recognising it, under the circumstances."

At that, all four young freedom fighters reached out to lay a hand on Kreacher. In the blink of an eye, they were gone.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: wand


	186. The Announcement Party

"So, what about you?" Harry asked as he finished gushing about how excited he was that Ginny was pregnant. "Are you guys thinking about having kids someday?"

Hermione's eyes sought out Regulus, who was playing with Teddy, tipping the boy upside down until he squealed with delight. It had taken a while for the pair to warm to one another – Reg hadn't had any experience with children, and it had shown – but they clearly now adored one another. "No. We aren't."

"But you're both so good with them," Lavender protested. "You would be naturals at it."

Neither Harry nor Lavender caught Ron's eyeroll, but Hermione did. They shared a sardonic smile. The topic had been one of the main points of contention in their short-lived relationship, with him not being able to imagine a life without kids while she couldn't imagine one with them.

"With other people's, sure. With our own?" She shook her head empathetically. "Neither of us particularly want any. We've talked about the prospect of fostering a teenager eventually, but that wouldn't be for many years yet."

It looked like Lavender was going to object further, but, fortunately, Ron changed the subject before she could. "Hey, Harry, how's the Corps nowadays?"

Hermione settled back in her chair with her glass of fizzy drink. After a few minutes, she excused herself to go check on Ginny. The other woman had ducked out of the announcement party to send her résumé off to one of Lavender's contacts at the _Prophet_ – since she wouldn't be able to play while she was pregnant, she was looking for other work for the season – and Hermione wanted to check if she'd like any help.

Catching Regulus' eyes as she walked past, she smiled. She could see why Ginny and Harry had chosen the life they had. They both wanted a family of their own, and she thought they'd be great parents. But she was happy with the family she already had.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: imagine


	187. All Mad Here

"Your friends are very interesting," Regulus observed, his tone measured, as they trudged through the snow that led back up to the castle.

"You hate them, don't you?" Hermione wanted him to get along with the others, but she had known it would take some time for them to warm up to one another. Ginny, Neville and Luna were all willing to give him a chance, but Harry and Ron still viewed him with intense suspicion.

"Not at all. It's just that they're all very… loud."

She couldn't help the fond smile that spread across her face. It had bothered her at first as well, but she had grown to love the chaos of the Gryffindor common room. "I think it comes with the territory," she said, raising her school scarf meaningfully. "We're all mad here and all that; you'll get used to it."

"Yes." He frowned. She had introduced him to _Alice in Wonderland_ the week before, and she could tell that he had caught the reference. "That's sort of what I'm afraid of."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: smile


	188. Shadows

"A person's shadows are just as important as their light," Sirius told her one winter afternoon and now, staring into the face of his once-assumed-dead younger brother five years later, she is grateful that he did. For Regulus, like his brother before him, is as much shadow as he is light, and while it is easy to make the mistake of seeing him as all one or all the other, she knows they both have to find that balance – in living, in seeing, in being – if they ever want to live happy, functioning lives. Together, one step at a time, they must work to find a way to harness their light while still honouring their shadows.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: balance


	189. Speed Chatting

Hermione reluctantly left Ron's table and shuffled over to the next one. The school's idea of introducing speed chatting to get students to interact with people from other houses was going about as well as any attempt to force teenage rivals into socialising could be expected to go. Ron, at least, had been a friendly face.

She almost rolled her eyes when she realised that her next partner was Regulus Black. Sliding into her seat, she immediately reached for the list of questions that had been set out on the table for them.

He groaned. " _Really_?"

She shrugged. "It beats sitting in silence for five minutes as we glare at one another and wish we were anywhere else. Besides, we're basically mortal enemies, right? That's what your lot is saying, at least. Why not take this chance to get some inside knowledge? It might prove useful someday."

He didn't say a word, but his expression eased and he pushed the list over to her.

"Favourite colour?"

"Green."

"Brown. Do you play any sports?"

"Quidditch," he said as if it were a no-brainer.

"I don't, unless you count toting books up and down several flights of stairs as weight training," she joked, and for a second she thought she saw the corners of his mouth quirk up. "Favourite novel?"

"Anything by Faith Fawley."

Shocked by his answer, she exclaimed, "I love her writing! Especially the one about the kids and the haunted treehouse. Her command of language is unparalleled, in my opinion."

Regulus seemed taken aback by her outburst, but he nevertheless replied, "That's a good one. What did you think about the extended sailing metaphor? A lot of people think it was too vague, but I liked it."

Hermione smiled. None of her friends liked reading, let alone reading Fawley, so it was a thrill to get to analyse the books with someone. The list was forgotten entirely as she and Regulus settled into a debate about the meaning of her most recent novel.

 _Perhaps,_ she thought, _the idea wasn't as insane as I thought._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: faith

My high school ran a speed chatting session as part of our mandatory wellbeing program when I was in year eleven or twelve. It wasn't that bad – I ended up bonding with a former friend over _Halo_ – but the concept still felt super weird.


	190. Ruthless Idealist

It's her spirit that draws him to her, even though they stand on opposite sides of a metaphorical battlefield. She can be as ruthless and passionate as any Black, but it's her constant drive and desire to save the world and everyone in it that truly catches his attention.

Or, more accurately, it's the strange combination of the two.

It surprises him that she can be so unfeelingly pragmatic while still displaying such an ardent idealistic streak. He would have thought that they were mutually exclusive character traits, that a cynic would be ruthless and an idealist would be gentle. After all, isn't that what their war comes down to – ruthless cynics on his side and gentle idealists on hers? But she is both and neither and it confuses him even as it reels him in.

It takes him a while to unravel the mystery, but one day, it hits him like a tidal wave: She's not an idealist, not quite. She has hope in how things could be, but – unlike her brothers-in-arms, who think they can defeat their enemies without ever breaking their self-righteous moral code – she sees the work that it would take to get there.

But to his chagrin, that only makes him respect her more.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: surprise


	191. Traditions

"And they leave him milk and cookies _why_ , exactly?" Regulus asked as they wandered through the Muggle street, admiring the glittering Christmas decorations and nativity scenes.

Hermione smiled. They had come so far from the schoolchildren they had once been. Back then, he would have had no interest whatsoever in Muggle customs, and she would have responded to the slightest hint of scepticism with indignation of the highest order. Seeing her husband take the time to try to understand her birth culture – as foreign and confusing as parts of it might seem – meant a lot to her. "The idea is that Santa has to travel to every household in the world in one night, so he's going to need sustenance at some point. I imagine leaving the food out is supposed to teach children to be gracious and thoughtful."

"Meanwhile, the parents have an excuse to eat cookies –"

"And the carrots left out for the reindeers," she added. She wasn't actually sure if the parents _did_ eat the carrots, but unless they fed it to their own pets, she assumed they did. It seemed like a waste of food _not_ to.

He hesitated for a moment, seeming a lot less impressed about that part. "– and carrots."

"Exactly."

"And you want to do this with Lucy?"

"Well, yes. It's a common tradition in the Muggle world, and I don't want her to miss out on it."

"I suppose we might as well."

Hermione could tell that he still hadn't quite wrapped his head around the concept, but she appreciated his willingness to try it. "Thank you."

 _Look how far we've come,_ she thought as she pointed out a particularly pretty display of lights. They stopped to admire it, and she rested her head against his arm, looking forward to the day when their baby girl – currently staying with Neville and Hannah so she wouldn't be out in the cold – could enjoy the sight with them.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: milk and cookies


	192. Cliff

It felt as though they were hurtling towards the edge of a cliff; no matter what they did, it just kept getting closer and closer. It was only a matter of time until they would reach the end and they would be done.

Hermione didn't know when, exactly, they had lost control. Was it when Sirius ran away from home, leaving Regulus alone under his parents' influence? Was it when Regulus had refused her family's offer for him to move in with them, choosing pride over practicality once again?

It had been sometime before Regulus told his cousin that he would join the Death Eaters to honour their family name; that much, she knew for certain.

So she held on as tightly as she could, but she knew that it was a lost cause. The moment the edge was in sight, she would jump for cover. She had no choice; if he didn't change his mind by then, he never would.

And as much as she cared for him, she refused to fall with him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: cliff


	193. Under the Stars

They lay on the picnic blanket, holding hands as they stared up at the stars overhead. Once upon a time, Hermione had seen the night sky as a tapestry of lights that were pretty but indecipherable. She had never understood how people could make them into shapes like a game of connect the dots; her brain just wasn't wired that way. But she had studied, and she had learned. Now, she could recognise the clusters and constellations for what they were and tell the stories that humans had attached to them.

Within their enchanted bubble, the air was warm and secure. Turning to her husband, she smiled and tightened her grip on his hand. The idea of sleeping outside had unnerved her when Regulus first suggested it, but as her eyelids grew heavy with sleep, she thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: holding hands


	194. Defection

It was the betrayal that hurt the most. All their lives, she had been a given – a mortal lock, never to be questioned and never to be doubted. They had been inseparable since childhood, and he'd known that, one day, he would marry her. But now she was gone, like a leaf carried away on the wind.

He had always known that she wasn't as militant about blood purity as he was, but her defection had sent him reeling. By the time his world stopped spinning and his head cleared, nothing looked the same.

In hindsight, he could see the hints she'd dropped like breadcrumbs that she had clearly expected him to follow. But at the time, he had been too swept up in the excitement of finally joining the Death Eaters to notice something so seemingly innocuous. She had blindsided him, abandoning him to run off and join their – _his_ , now – enemies.

And so, he supposed, friend became foe.

He wondered if she was having as hard a time reconciling herself with that idea as he was.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: doubt


	195. Mosquitos

He is like a garden full of mosquitos: beautiful, interesting, but brimming with little nuisances that quickly begin to wear on her. At first, she tries to shoo the problem away, but she soon finds that they just keep coming back again. For a while, she perseveres, accepting it as the price to pay for spending time among the roses.

But as time goes on, the bites start to pile up, and her patience wears thin. She tries spraying herself to deter them; it fails. She tries dealing with them, one mosquito at a time; it fails. It gets to the point where she spends all her time in the garden trying to avoid the little horrors – she finds that she's spending as much time avoiding the garden as she is in it.

It isn't long after that that she makes the decision that proves easier than she ever thought it would be: to simply give up on it – on him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: roses

The number of mosquitos at my university is disgusting.


	196. The Fool

When he was eleven years old, his parents sat him down for a talk that was still emblazoned on his mind to this day. They warned him that Hogwarts, however amazing it might seem to be, was a dangerous place. It contained people and things that no good pureblood should ever be exposed to, but that he would have no choice but to consort with if he wanted to succeed at school.

"The trick," his mother said, "is to remember not to fool yourself into thinking that a mudblood or half-blood is your equal - a pawn, perhaps, but never an ally. You must swear that you will always keep them at arm's length."

When he was fourteen years old, he met her. Almost two years his junior, the girl with the bushy hair and the dirty blood was as forward and dangerous as his parents had claimed. For, as annoying as she was, it was undeniable that genuine intelligence lurked behind her brilliant brown eyes. He could almost see why Sirius had turned traitor and ran - not that he would ever admit it aloud.

 _Of course, she is clever,_ his father wrote after Regulus tentatively expressed his concerns about the girl. _To steal her magic, she had to be. The question isn't whether she has cunning; it is whether she is worthy. This is what we warned you about, my boy. Her very presence is a danger to you. You must stay strong._

When he was sixteen years old, he had his first kiss. She was pretty and courteous and had wit as sharp as an eagle's talons, and he enjoyed her company immensely. She was safe; she was proper but sly; she was everything he thought he wanted in a person. But when they parted ways at the end of their date, he couldn't help but think the day could have done with a touch more danger.

 _It is a shame that it ended, but it is what it is,_ he wrote to his mother the day after his girlfriend broke up with him for reasons that he was sure were just her way of not calling him out for being distracted. _We both think we are more suited to being friends._

When he was twenty years old, his whole world was dragged into a war that seemed like it would never end. His parents and his courteous, witty best friend fought on one side, and the girl with the bushy hair and brilliant brown eyes fought on the other. His heart sat on a precipice, torn between everyone he loved and everything he knew to be right.

"I'm a fool," he told his best friend, the one who armed herself with a sword of wit and a shield of manners and whom he might have fallen in love with if he hadn't done the one thing his parents had made him promise never to do. But he had, and now he had every choice and no choice all at once.

"I know," she replied.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dirty


	197. Stay

"Hogsmeade?" Harry asks.

The temptation is there in the back of her head, calling her to run. There is still a chance to avoid it all. The four of them could be in Bulgaria within a day, at which point Viktor would help them disappear so completely that no one would ever find them. They would be safe to live out the rest of their lives free of the threat of war.

But she knows the voice, and it sounds like Regulus, not her. It's his doubts and concerns that are lurking in the back of her mind, insisting that there is always another option and that all they have to do is look long enough to find it. While that's one of the things she likes the most about him – it makes him an excellent brainstorming partner – she needs to remember that his motivation comes from a totally different place than hers.

For her, that niggling thought, that alluring possibility, is drowned out by the myriad of reasons that they have to stay. It isn't just their story; it is the story of a people. And she refuses to abandon them to their fate.

Turning back to Harry, she gives him a tight smile and a sharp nod. "Hogsmeade."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: temptation


	198. Over

It had been foolish to think it would last. As he sat in his room, struggling to hold back the tears, he almost wished they had never even tried. They should have known better; they should have known that any attempt at a relationship between them would only end in flames. Part of him wondered whether perhaps, deep down, they had. Another part suspected he was just trying to make himself feel better by pretending he'd known all along.

In hindsight, the things that divided them were so fundamental to their beings that it was little wonder they hadn't worked out. Some couples were able to disagree and move on without a fuss, but they had always gotten stuck on the smallest of things. Of the seven months they had dated, four had been spent fighting over issues that never seemed to get resolved. It had reached the point where it was impossible to divorce their relationship from its faults. If they had been more forgiving people, maybe they could have made it work. But each slight was a tally against the other's name on a list that was constantly being brought out and rehashed. And he was sick of it.

 _It's over now,_ he reminded himself, not sure what his next step would be and honestly not caring. _We're both free._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: foolish


	199. A House of Paper

They were living in a house of paper. As much as they loved one another, the unspoken truth was that even just the slightest of flames would be enough to reduce them to cinders. They could ignore the fire hazard all they wanted, but one day, she knew, their forced ignorance would return to haunt them. And when it did, it would be too late to do anything but watch everything they had built crumble away to ash. They could conceivably tear it all apart now on their own terms so that they could start from scratch, this time with a more durable material, but they had come so far that she didn't know if they could survive it. So she said nothing, and he said nothing, and they kept on saying nothing even as the match was struck and the house was lit, and they continued saying nothing until it was too late to say anything.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: paper


	200. Aftermath

When the dust finally settled and he stopped to look around, all he felt was a pervading sense of hollowness. They had won, so where was their prize? Part of him insisted that the victory itself should be enough, but he wasn't so sure any more. He had fought and even killed, and he had betrayed the girl he loved, but at the end of it all, was it even worth it? Both sides had lost; they had lost people, hope, sometimes even their own identities. And what had it all been for? What had he gained that he hadn't had before?

* * *

A/N: Prompt: prize


	201. Broken and Healing

Hermione rested her head on Regulus' shoulder, enjoying the warmth that was radiating from the crackling fireplace. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and exhaustion, and it was so tempting to give in to its pull. But she forced herself to stay awake; she knew what was waiting for her in the land of dreams.

In the days since the final battle, her aching muscles had healed until all that remained of the war was the word written across her arm. But although her body had healed, her mind still had far to go.

"I'm scared to fall asleep," she admitted.

He squeezed her hand, and when she looked up at him, she could see the ghosts lurking behind his grey eyes. "Me, too."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fireplace


	202. Cultural Differences Part 2

"I thought you said your parents are old-fashioned," Regulus said as he sat down in the thing Hermione called a car and clipped the safety strap into place across his chest. As she turned the key and the vehicle roared to life, he glanced each way to check for other cars. He trusted that she was a good driver, as far as drivers went, but everything was still too new to him for him to truly relax.

She eased the car out onto the road before glancing over at him incredulously. "They are."

He snorted. "Not by wizarding standards."

Her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn't answer right away. After a few seconds, she replied, "I know pureblood society is rather antiquated, but I suppose I've never really thought about how that translates to parenting practices."

"I don't know how to describe it," he admitted. "I guess it's my normal as much as back there is yours. But it focused a lot on learning wizarding etiquette and furthering the family's interests."

"So, while my parents want me to become a lawyer or a doctor so that I can maintain the same standard of living as them..."

"Mine would want the same, except that - as much as they care about me -" he gripped the armrest as Hermione took a sudden turn "- it would be about appearances as much as it would be about my welfare."

"That sounds like a horrible way to grow up," she said.

"Not really. They love me, and they want the best for me; it's just that there are other factors in there as well."

She made a noncommittal noise.

"You're doing that thing again," he pointed out. Hermione had a habit of judging that which she didn't understand; if it didn't make sense to her, then, in her mind, it didn't make sense at all.

"You're right," she said after a moment. "I haven't even met your parents; I don't know what they're like. But cultural differences _are_ something we should talk about. If we ever decide to have kids..."

He nodded and thought back as far as he could remember. "Well, I had an early bedtime," he started.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: old-fashioned


	203. Trying

"Don't touch the China teacups," Regulus warned Hermione as she rooted through the cupboard in search of clean silverware. His parents had left the house in a state of disrepair before their deaths. Out of necessity rather than desire, the newlyweds had decided to move in until they could find a buyer for the crumbling old house. When a sale was finalised, they would be able to buy their own place, but in the meantime, they were stuck with dust and cockroaches and things that went bump at all times of the day. "There's an above average chance they might be cursed."

She pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. The first few times, she had taken it as a challenge to try to deactivate the curse before it got to her. Now, she knew better. "Just targeting Muggle-borns, I assume?" she asked, her voice bitter.

"Not this time, actually. The assumption was that Muggle-borns wouldn't be allowed in the house, let alone invited to tea, so it would probably be aimed more broadly at anyone who it doesn't deem worthy of the house."

"That's disgusting. You do the silverware, then; I'll finish dinner. Unless the spoon is going to try to attack me?"

"The spoon's safe, though I'm not so sure about the pot," he joked as they swapped places and she took over monitoring the boiling pasta. He pulled out the teacup set and waved his wand over them, groaning when it turned the telltale black of a cursed object. "Seriously, though, I'm really sorry about this. I know it isn't what either of us were expecting when we dreamed about starting our lives together."

"It's not your fault. And you _did_ go through everything first to get the worst of it."

"Still." Regulus put the teacups aside with the other items to be restored or destroyed and returned to search for something usable. "I hate that my childhood home is set up in a way that means it is literally trying to kill you."

"I do, too," she admitted, "but do you know what the best response would be?"

"What?"

She switched off the stove and turned to him with a mischievous grin. "To make it the most Muggle-friendly building in wizarding Britain."

He grinned. "Let's do it."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: China teacups


	204. The Playground

"I told you so!" a kid screeched as he chased his friend around the playground, waving his hands above his head and wearing a bucket as a hat.

James stood off in the distance, watching the pair with a look of sheer confusion on his face. Hermione let out a sigh of relief when he shrugged and, after adjusting the birthday badge that proclaimed him five years old, returned to his half-built sandcastle. She wanted nothing more than to be back home, but she had promised Harry and Ginny that they would keep James out of the house long enough for them to run some last-minute errands for his birthday party.

 _I don't like kids,_ she thought, and with that revelation, everything clicked into place. It wasn't that she _disliked_ them; James was a sweetheart, and it looked like Albus and Lily were growing up to be as well. It was just that she would be just as fulfilled without kids in her life as she was with them, and she had no desire to ever have any of her own. It just seemed like an unnecessary bother, especially when there were so many other things she could be doing with her life. She was perfectly content with her role as fairy godmother, as James liked to call her.

The problem was that she knew that Regulus _did_ want a child one day; two, in fact. And he was adamant about having them as she was finding that she was about not having them.

She sighed and, checking her watch, pushed herself up from the bench and walked over to collect James. It was about time for them to be heading back to Grimmauld Place. Hermione knew she would have to talk to her boyfriend about the issue at some point, but she resolved to put it out of her mind for the time being. It wouldn't be fair on James to be distracted because of something that had nothing to do with him.

As the pair of boys ran past her again, however, still shouting just as loudly, she knew that the conversation would have to happen soon. If visiting a playground for two hours was enough to give her a headache, she didn't want to find out what being a parent for life would do to her.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: "I told you so."


	205. Political Activism

_She never had lost her lust for life,_ Regulus noted with wry amusement as he watched his wife of eighty years argue with the Minister for Magic about some bill he wanted to introduce. The how and the what might have changed, but the when and the why never had. Hermione was as eager for change as she had been at fourteen years old; the only difference was that she was a bit slower and smarter about it nowadays.

"It won't change anything," the politician assured her, his earnest eyes somewhat belied by a voice that was smooth and unflappable enough to sell garbage as treasure. "The wording has to vague so we don't back ourselves into a corner, but we don't intend on ever using it. You have nothing to worry about."

"If it won't change anything, then why push for it in the first place?" she shot back. "Why not just reaffirm the law as it currently is?"

"It's just a formality."

Hermione ran a hand through her white hair, which was thinner now than it had been when Regulus first met her. "I'm not going to give up, you know," she promised him. "I'm going to fight it until there's nothing left to fight."

Those words were the best description of his wife Regulus had ever heard.

Apparently, Aaron Whitledge agreed, for he broke his collected public persona for a moment to let out a tired sigh. "I shouldn't have expected any differently, should I?"

"I think we're done here." Hermione handed him a copy of the petition she had brought with her to back up her words. "You should keep this."

As Regulus and Hermione left the Ministry, he turned back just in time to watch the other man's mouth ease into a smile as he returned to his office with a calmness that Regulus would have thought was real had he not been privy to the heated conversation.

"He knows you're going to win," Regulus murmured.

Hermione glanced up at him with a smug look in her eyes. "As well he should."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: lust


	206. Puppy

Hermione glanced up with a fond smile at the sound of Lucy's laughter ringing out across the living room of the Burrow. Three years of motherhood, and it was still hard for her to comprehend that the little bundle of joy was really theirs. There had been a time when she hadn't expected to live until eighteen; now, here they were.

"Uncle!" the girl called out, rushing to the door, her black ponytails flying behind her. Hermione followed her daughter's trajectory with her eyes and nodded a greeting when she noticed her brother-in-law crouching at the threshold, his arms out to catch the young witch as she ran towards him.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Regulus stiffen, his hand clenching in his lap. The siblings had come a long way since their teenage years, but they still only really tolerated one another. It hurt to see the energy seep out of him at the sight of his brother, but she knew that the only thing that would heal the fractures in their relationship was time.

"Puppy," Lucy said, tugging on Sirius' sleeve. "Make puppy."

"Don't you want to say hello to me first?" he teased her.

She shook her head. "No. Puppy."

Sirius shot Hermione and Regulus an amused look before turning back to the excited girl. "Alright, but you'll need to step back a bit."

Lucy obliged and watched with delight as Sirius transformed into his Animagus form. Squealing, she ran forward and threw her arms around the shaggy black dog, pulling him into a tight hug.

"One day, he's going to regret showing her that," Regulus muttered.

Hermione nodded. Secretly, she suspected that he already did. There were only so many gatherings a person could spend in an Animagus form before it started to get old.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: puppy


	207. The Mirror

Hermione let her bag drop to the ground with a dull thud. Regulus Black was such a _hypocrite_. She had overheard the wealthy pureblood telling his friends about the importance of treating house-elves well, but when she had chimed in to back him up, he had made a derogatory comment and shooed her away. While she respected his stance on creature rights, she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that he could be so passionate about acknowledging house-elves' right to freedom and dignity and then turn around and support the oppression of Muggle-borns for something as basic as their parentage. How could someone who campaigned for the rights of one group see another as somehow inherently less than human? How could he even begin to reconcile the two ideas?

One day, she promised herself, she would convince him that he was wrong. She would not only promote the rights of Muggle-borns and magical creatures on a societal scale; she would dismantle the social structures that oppressed them so thoroughly that future generations would be unable to believe that they had ever existed. She would become the embodiment of everything the purebloods valued until they had no choice but to recognise that she and 'her kind' were just as capable and worthy as them. She would not just hold a mirror up in front of them; she would _become_ the mirror.

In that moment, without meaning to, Regulus Black had given her a new mission.

But first, she had to go to the library.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: hypocrite


	208. Past

_Experience is bittersweet,_ she thinks. _It teaches and builds and guides and shows, but it also hurts and tears apart and haunts and hinders._

Running her hand along the once-sharp edge of a tattered box of cards, she thinks back to when the cardboard was new and neat and clasped in the hands of a dark-haired boy who still had his whole life ahead of him. But he is gone, and the box is torn, and she is older and wiser but also fractured and so, so tired. The past that looks over her shoulder is both an angel and a devil, and she can't decide whether she is grateful for it or just wants it to disappear entirely.

All it would take is one spell.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: experience


	209. Walking Away

It was easy to think they had gotten past the prejudice. She had told him about the Muggle world; he had apologised for everything he'd said over the years; they had agreed to move on. But the thing was, it was also easy to be wrong. The problems lay in the little things, the hurtful things he said and did but then insisted he didn't have to apologise for because he hadn't meant them maliciously. It was the judgement and the bias and the fact that she knew, deep down, that there were things she did that he still saw as inferior just because he hadn't thought to unpack his feelings about them yet. She could forgive the accidental slights, but that didn't mean they hurt her any less. And, as determined as she was to make their friendship work in order to prove the wizarding world wrong, she knew there was only so long she could take the pain. The question wasn't if it would become too much for her, but when. And on that day, she knew, she would walk.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: judgement

Happy Mother's Day!


	210. Exes

Regulus tried to ignore the way their interlaced fingers swung back and forth through the space between them like a pendulum. He knew he had made the right decision in breaking up with Hermione; her friends and her expectations were so different to his own, and trying to twist and contort himself to fit into her life had only ended up hurting him in the long run. Fourteen months into their relationship, he had woken up and realised that he didn't recognise himself anymore. When he walked away from her, a weight had lifted itself from his heart, and his vision of what he wanted for himself had been clear for the first time in months.

Nevertheless, he missed her company and their light and the knowledge of everything that could have been. No matter how painfully their relationship had ended, they had been happy once, and it was that memory that made it hard for him to see her with someone new. Watching her laughing and smiling with Ron as they set about building a future together just needlessly reminded Regulus everything he'd had to give up in order to get to where he needed to be.

He didn't regret the decision he'd made. He did regret that he'd had to make it.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: interlaced fingers


	211. Forgiveness

"After everything Black has done, how can you forgive him?" Ginny asked as she flopped down onto the bed next to Hermione's and started tossing a stress ball from one hand to the other. Not all of the scars left by the final battle were bodily; in fact, most of them weren't.

Hermione glanced over at the redhead. Returning to school after the war had been a tough decision, but she was glad she had made it. While it was odd to go back to a classroom environment where the people she had fought alongside were now her professors instead of her fellow soldiers, it was also cleansing. And now that the new and returning seventh year Gryffindor girls all shared the same dormitory, she was able to spend more time with Ginny. It was nice not to be surrounded by girls who were nice enough but whom she didn't really get along with. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think I have yet. Not fully, anyway."

"Then why did you agree to talk to him today?"

 _Why did an eleven-year-old girl pour all of her secrets into a diary that wrote back?_ Hermione thought, but she would never say that to Ginny directly. Not for something as trivial as making a point. "Regulus was a scared little kid, just like we were. He apologised for not breaking away sooner. I think he meant it."

Ginny threw the ball a little too hard into the air and winced as it hit the ceiling. Catching the ball again, she held it still for a moment, almost contritely, before continuing to play with it again. This was a difficult topic for her, Hermione knew; the other girl knew all about being a scared little kid who made the wrong choice. Add that to the fact that she'd lost a brother, and it was no wonder she was on edge. But, as usual, Ginny covered that vulnerability with bluster. "And so you're, what, determined to be the bigger person?"

"That's the thing; I'm not sure if I am anymore. I did some awful things – not as bad as him, and not as immoral but him, but awful nonetheless. I did it because I thought it was right at the time; he did it because _he_ thought it was right at the time. The moment he learned better, he got out. I have to respect that, if nothing else."

"I still don't like it."

"You don't have to. He and I aren't friends; we're just talking."

"Yeah. _Right_."

"I mean it," Hermione insisted. "And even if that ever changes, you and Harry and Ron come first. Every time."

That, at least, earned her a smile. "Just be careful. You know what they say; once a bully, always a bully."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: breaking away


	212. Bubblegum Pink

She didn't intend to talk to him. Being on vaguely polite terms was more than enough relationship development for her for one lifetime. But then she overheard him talking about how he hadn't seen his cousin's daughter since she was a baby, and she thought that was sad, given how close Sirius had said the two used to be. Before she knew it, she was telling him about bubblegum pink hair and knocked-over umbrella stands and laughter and determination and loyalty and love, and he was thanking her and trying not to get emotional and being, on the whole, much more sociable than she'd expected him to be, until they were somehow much closer to friends than they were to acquaintances.

And she found that she didn't mind.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: bubblegum


	213. Pickles

Regulus hurried towards their small apartment, shopping bag securely in hand, and almost crashed into Severus. His best friend took one look at him – his messy hair, the harried look in his eye – and calmly asked, "What is it this time?"

"Hermione's craving pickles. I don't like pickles. _She_ doesn't like pickles. But she's craving pickles, so I had to go buy pickles."

Severus frowned down at the bag. "Just pickles?"

"Just pickles."

Severus gave him a pensive look that he couldn't quite interpret. It was only much later, after the pregnancy had been confirmed and the Healer had mentioned that some unexpected side effects might occur, that Regulus put the pieces together and realised what his friend had so quickly worked out. At the time, however, he just gestured for his fellow Slytherin to follow him inside.

-x-

"Regulus?" Hermione asked two years later as they sat on the floor with an infant on his lap and a map on hers.

He looked up from his book. "Yes, love?"

"We don't have any pickles, do we?"

This time, he smiled.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: pensive


	214. Shoot to

Regulus closed the DADA textbook and pushed it aside. The harsh wind rustled the walls of the tent as he stood up and went over to fetch an apple. After an afternoon of studying, he felt starved. Turning back to the others, he asked the question that had been toying at his mind for the last few minutes: "Do we fight to kill?"

"What?" Harry asked, his head jerking up from the parchment he had been pouring over. Ron and Hermione weren't as overt about their shock, but they both eyed him speculatively.

"They will," he said without a hint of doubt in his mind. "Do we?" He tried to keep his tone neutral. He knew what he would be doing, no matter what the others said, but he didn't want to risk pushing any of them into the position of devil's advocate by coming on too strong.

The three Gryffindors glanced at one another. They had all known, deep down, that the question would come up one day, but they had been doing their best not to acknowledge it. The less they thought about it, the less real it felt.

"No," Harry said, at the same time as Ron said yes. Harry turned to the redhead in surprise, an offended look of betrayal on his face.

"Not the Killing Curse," Ron added sheepishly, his ears turning red under his friend's scrutiny.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking at her as if she were his last hope for a lifeline.

Regulus almost felt sorry for him. _It must be difficult to assume that everyone is taking the same moral stance as you, only to find out that they aren't._

But Hermione hesitated. "I agree with Ron and Regulus. If we don't retaliate, they will just keep coming until there isn't anyone left to come at. It isn't a nice thought, but…"

"We're supposed to be the good guys," Harry protested.

"We are," she replied. "They're the ones chasing us. If they stopped chasing, we would stop running. But if we stopped running…"

"They would run us down anyway," Harry acknowledged, though he still looked uneasy.

"We're not saying we're going to be cavalier about it, mate," Ron said. Ever since the focus had shifted to Hermione, his ears had faded until only a faint tinge of pink remained. "We're not going to look for opportunities to kill. Not like them. It would be in self-defence."

Harry shook his head. "I still don't like it."

Regulus sensed that they weren't going to make any more progress that day, so he decided to intervene. Besides, he had the information he had been looking for. "We don't need to all make the same decision," he pointed out, walking back over to sit down at the table again. "And who knows? In the heat of the moment, we might all surprise ourselves. It's just something to think about in the meantime."

They fell into an awkward silence for the space of a few moments. The Slytherin suspected that the others were all weighing up the benefits of continuing the conversation versus returning to their research.

"I won't," Harry said, his voice ringing with solemnity and certitude.

"You don't have to," Ron assured him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: running


	215. Magician

"You're a magician?" Hermione asked, staring incredulously at her boyfriend of two years. Regulus had always been a bit odd. He had been home-schooled by parents who believed that nothing worthwhile had been created since Keats died, so there was a lot that he didn't understand when it came to technology and history alike. But despite that, he had somehow developed into an intelligent, ambitious young man with a preference for the practical. The idea of him taking up such a childish hobby was just ludicrous.

"Of course not," he said, sounding mildly offended. "A magician is a Muggle pretending to be a wizard; I'm the real thing."

She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, magic didn't exist. It just didn't. The world was made of science and logic. It contained marvellous things that seemingly came out of nowhere, but even they had some kind of method to them. There simply wasn't any space for things like _wizards._ But there was no punchline, no joke, no fell-for-it. He met her blank expression not with laughter, but with an expectant gaze. "You _are_ joking, aren't you?"

Regulus sighed and pulled out a wooden stick. "I'll prove it to you. Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

Hermione glanced around the room. The problem was that, assuming he was telling the truth, she didn't know what she _could_ ask him to do. It wasn't like they were in a fantasy novel, where she might ask him to send a fireball at a kobold or heal an ally's wounds. They were in her perfectly normal house with perfectly normal furnishings, where she did perfectly normal things. The idea of introducing magic into such an ordinary place felt surreal. "Er… Well, I was planning on moving all the lounges so I could clean under them…"

He muttered something under his breath and waved the stick in a motion that was so precise that she knew it had to have been practised. Then, to her wide-eyed amazement, her lounge rose into the air, hovered for a moment, and then moved over to sit against a nearby wall. With another sweep of his stick – she had to admit, now, that it had to be a wand – and muttered incantation, the newly revealed dust disappeared from sight. Then, he turned to her with a knowing smile. "Still think I'm joking?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm going to need a drink."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: laughter


	216. Getting Away

They ran into one another at a funeral a week after the final battle. The one thing that could unite both sides, it seemed, was mourning. Especially when the deceased was someone as universally respected as Filius Flitwick.

"It was a waste," Regulus said by way of an apology. It wasn't enough – it wasn't anywhere in the vicinity of enough – but he doubted there were enough words in the world to make it alright, so he left it at that.

"It was," Hermione agreed, and he wasn't surprised to hear the steel in her voice.

"I think I'm going to shut myself up at home for a while," Regulus said. "Do some rethinking. What about you?"

She somewhat reluctantly replied, "Travelling. I need to get away from everything for a while."

"With your friends?"

"Unfortunately, in this case, they're part of 'everything'. Besides, I doubt they would want to come. Ginny and Ron need to be with their family at the moment, and Harry will want to be here to support Ginny."

"It sounds like a good idea. I would love to do something like that."

She shot him a look. "You're not coming with me. I'm only telling you about this because none of my friends would get it. That's it."

"I know. I wasn't – I just meant that seclusion and anonymity sound pretty good right now."

"Yeah," she said wistfully, glancing over at the reporter who was surreptitiously standing at the back of the congregation to report on the funeral. "It does."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: final battle

Sirius, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying this collection, and it's so much fun to revisit the previous drabbles in light of your comments.


	217. Cut Short

"All he ever wanted was to be immortal," Regulus said, staring out over the battlefield. "It's sort of ironic that that was the thing that cut his life short. If he had just been happy with what he had, he would have had so much more."

Glancing over at him, Hermione could see the pain in his eyes. He might have chosen a better path, but so many of his friends had come to the same fate, led astray by a madman with more cunning than sense. She had lost people, too, of course, but at least she could say that they had given their lives to protect those weaker than them, which was more than he could say. "Seventy-one years," she mused. "Fifty-seven if you don't count the years he was a spectre. That's short by _Muggle_ standards."

He nodded, his eyebrows drawn together. "That's something, at least."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: immortal


	218. Elopement

_July 1979_

The Knight Bus jerked forward, and Hermione threw out her hands to keep herself from careening off her seat. The purple triple-decker was, in her opinion, _the_ worst form of transportation the wizarding world had devised. First year flying lessons had been tough, but at least they had been allowed to stay relatively close to the ground. This, however, had no easy mode; the jerking motions of the bus didn't come in half-measures.

"Almost there," Regulus murmured for the seat beside her. Having grown up with uncomfortable and stomach-twisting transits like Portkeys and Side Along Apparition, he was taking the trip a little better than she was. Still, she could see he was a little green around the edges – he had admitted to her earlier that he had never been on public transport before since his parents saw it as lowering themselves to the level of the masses.

She nodded and looked down at the diamond ring that glittered like stars against the dark skin of her hand. Two years, they had kept it secret; in a few days, everybody would know. "And then we'll be married."

He took her hand in his and played with the ring, wiggling it back and forth across her finger. "I'm sorry it has to happen like this. I wish we could do this properly."

Hermione smiled. So was she, but not for the reasons he was thinking. She had never been one to long for a big wedding or fancy celebration; she was just happy to be marrying him. But she knew that it mattered to him. He had grown up expecting that _of course_ it would one day happen to him, and if it hadn't been for her, it would have. And she knew that his family and friends would take their elopement as a sign that Regulus was as embarrassed about the relationship as everyone else thought he should be. But while part of her wanted to go grand – _do it properly_ , as he had said – both to give him that special day and to prove everyone else wrong, it just wasn't feasible. If they waited, there was a good chance she – or both of them, depending on which family member orchestrated it – would mysteriously turn up dead before the big day.

"It might not be proper," she allowed, "but I daresay it will be perfect."

When the bus slammed to a halt once more, however, she rather wished they might have found some other way to get to the chapel.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Knight Bus


	219. Runaways

Hermione knew that the likelihood of both of them making it through the war unscathed was slim; she wasn't naïve, no matter what anybody who had heard her tirade on house-elf rights might have thought. They were both too noticeable to just slip between the cracks; as the first Muggle-born Head Girl in several decades, she would be one of He Who Must Not Be Named's first targets, whereas Regulus was expected to be one of his staunchest supporters. Really, they would be better off fleeing separately. Every moment they spent together in the library, no matter how many times they used the Head students excuse, was another chance for their enemies to figure them out. She could catch a ferry to Belfast and then catch a flight to some remote corner of the world, while he could use the traditional Black family post-school solo world tour as an excuse to get out of his parents' reach long enough to Apparate away and meet her. After all, the problem wasn't getting to their destination; it was timing their departure.

Yet for some reason, Regulus, despite his usual penchant for pragmatism, was opposed to the idea, arguing that they would leave together or not at all. She supposed she should be flattered – it was more for her sake than his, she knew – but she was too much of a Ravenclaw to truly appreciate the gesture.

Crossing out the Arithmancy equation she had spent all afternoon trying to get right – which, in this case, meant 'get to say that the odds were in favour of them surviving in one piece' – she put her quill down and gently started massaging the headache out of her temples. There would be another way. Perhaps they could apply for permission to go to Hogsmeade a few days before school let out for the year and make their getaway then. Her parents could meet them at Cairnryan so they could all cross together. She hated the idea of leaving school early, but it would be fine.

By fine, of course, she meant terrifying. But it was the only plan she had that might feasibly work, so they had to take the risk.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: naïve


	220. Dried Flowers

The dried flowers pressed between pages of Hermione's old diary reminded her of a more innocent time, one where she had the luxury of enjoying simple pleasures like picking a rose on a date with a boy she liked so that she would remember where they had gone and what they had seen years or even decades later. Now that she was fighting for her life alongside that same boy, such a gesture seemed like the height of pointless frivolity. Who cared about the meadow she and Regulus had found on their hike that day? Why had she thought it was so important at the time?

Even then, she knew she was being harsh on her younger self. The girl she had been hadn't known the challenges and trials she would come to face, and she shouldn't be judged for that.

 _Besides,_ she thought as she traced her finger along one of the pale pink petals, _it's one more thing to fight for: so children can spend their days dreaming about flowers rather than studying war strategy._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dried flowers


	221. Holding On

The moment the curse hit her, it was like a storm broke within her mind, sending waves of pain coursing through her. Hermione knew that, technically, it wasn't 'real'; it was targeting the pain receptors in her brain rather than the actual muscles in her body. But the knowledge did little to reassure her. Physical or mental, pain was pain.

Nevertheless, she couldn't give in; she knew too much. She gripped that fact like a lifeline, holding tight to it to keep herself from getting swept away by the tide. Regulus and Ron might be imprisoned in the dungeons beneath her feet, but Harry was still free.

And as much as she hoped that he would stay away and complete their mission, she knew as surely as she knew how to breathe that he was already on his way to break them out.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: storm


	222. Fatherhood

"But when they woke up the next morning, the Niffler was nowhere to be found," Regulus read, moving his finger along the words as he went so that Lucy could follow along if she wanted to. "Elspeth and Daisy scoured the house from top to bottom, but there was no trace of him, and all of the jewellery was still in its proper place."

A gentle snore cut him off. His face eased into a soft smile as he glanced up at his sleeping daughter. When she was awake, she was a force of nature; intelligent, charming, stubborn, and short-sighted, she combined the best and worst traits of both of her parents. But when she tired herself out enough to fall asleep, she looked as innocent and serene as a newborn babe. Gratitude swelled in his chest at the thought of how lucky they were to have the chance to love her. Closing the picture book and putting it aside, he leaned forward and brushed aside a strand of curly black hair that had fallen across her face.

Placing a gentle kiss on the young girl's forehead, he murmured, "Sweet dreams, my diamond."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: diamond

Another throwback to chapter seven, where Hermione and Regulus named their daughter Lucy after the song/white dwarf _Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds._


	223. Long Distance

The strangest thing about magic, in Hermione's opinion, was how it rendered the concepts of distance and time virtually obsolete. When she was young, the idea of dating someone who lived in another country would have been daunting, if not an immediate deal-breaker. But here in the wizarding world, physical separation was easily surmountable. The use of liberal amounts of Floo Powder and Portkeys meant that she and Regulus could still see one another regularly. They were still restricted, of course – there was a limit to how often someone could safely travel by Floo Powder in a given week, and getting approval for an international Portkey was a long and tiring process – but they were usually able to see one another on weekends and the occasional weeknight. And it took less than a minute to travel each time.

It wasn't the kind of arrangement that would work long-term; if they were ever to marry or have children, she would want to live with him rather than having to schedule time together as if they were mere colleagues. But for the time being, it allowed her to move to Rome for her dream job without sacrificing their fledgling relationship, and for that, she would always be grateful.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: Floo Powder


	224. Phobias

Regulus still found it hard to wrap his head around the fact that Hermione hated flying. To him, it represented pure, unadulterated freedom - when he was up in the sky, he didn't have to worry about work or his parents or whatever news story was about to break; he could just be. His fiancée, however, refused to take any form of travel that separated her feet from the ground for longer than the few minutes it took to Floo or Portkey somewhere. Years of flying in only life-or-death situations had turned her childhood fear into a bona fide phobia that she had no intention of ever facing.

He understood it; ever since the war, he couldn't smell the scent of cloying perfume without flashing back to the first day his aunt had turned the Cruciatus Curse on him. Nevertheless, every now and again, he would remember that she would never see the beauty that was a bird's eye view of London and its surrounds or enjoy the rush of letting herself plummet down before pulling up at the last minute. She had her own hobbies and passions, but the thought that she would never see such a splendid sight saddened him.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: phobia


	225. The First Day

Regulus gazed at the castle in wonder as the group of first years reached its front steps. He was used to magic and luxury, but this was something else entirely. It felt like he had known about Hogwarts forever; now that he was finally there, he had a sense of coming home. He could finally understand why Sirius never seemed to be able to describe the place; no amount of words could do this feeling justice.

"It's beautiful," a voice whispered beside him.

"It is," he agreed. He turned to face the girl, fully expecting to have met her already. Hogwarts accepted so few students every year that he already knew most of the people in their cohort by face, if not by name as well. He frowned when he realised that he didn't recognise her. Before he could think any more of it, however, the ornate oak doors swung open to reveal a stern-looking witch and his first glimpse of the inside of the castle.

As the woman welcomed them in and the group started forward once more, any plans of talking to the girl fled his brain. All he could think about was the wonders that were waiting for them inside.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: justice


	226. Overworked

It was almost midnight when Hermione finally sunk into her favourite armchair with a tired sigh. Her eyes were heavy, and her back ached, and it was all she could do not to fall asleep where she sat. In fact, she rather suspected that she would have if it weren't for the smell of pasta bubbling away on the stove. After staying late at the office every day for the past four weeks, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for days.

She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as it got caught in the tangles. Her mind raced with thoughts of the _Magical Education Act_ 1895, the cause of her current predicament. Lured by the knowledge of how important it was to have a legal framework that was based _in this century,_ she had agreed to help Regulus revise it in accordance with some of the recent developments in the Muggle world. The problem was that, since it wasn't part of either of their departments, the only time they had to work on it was after they had clocked off for the day – and there was so much that needed to be amended that it felt like they would never reach the end of it. She had severely underestimated how long the project would take – and how much it would take out of her.

The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that the current state of affairs really was atrocious. There was no protection for students against reporters, which was why Skeeter had been allowed to slander Hermione in the press so many years before. Permission slips for dangerous activities – _such as flying,_ she thought bitterly – weren't compulsory unless the Headmaster or Headmistress decided to make them a requirement during their tenure. Mandatory reporting and continued professional development were virtually non-existent concepts. All in all, the current legislation was in dire need of assistance. And now that they had started, she refused to give up. It was too important for that.

Of course, that did nothing to help the exhaustion that had settled in so deeply that it seemed to be ingrained in her very bones.

Nor did it change the fact that they were still only halfway through.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: midnight


	227. Looking Forward, Looking Back

Her face had gone numb from smiling so much, but the broad grin on her face never once faltered. As the wedding guests started to make their way up the sand to the nearby reception hall, Hermione turned to her new _husband_. Regulus' grey eyes, usually so closed off and unfathomable, danced with unmasked happiness. "We did it," she whispered, low enough so that the nearby bridal party and photographers couldn't hear.

His hand wrapped around hers. "We did it," he agreed, pulling her closer.

The ceremony had been beautiful, and the moment they had exchanged vows had been the happiest of her life. But years later, when she remembered that day, the first thing she thought of wasn't the packed beach or the endless well wishes or the high-spirited reception. It was that first handful of moments alone with him, set to the soundtrack of waves crashing against the shore and tinged with the smell of sea salt.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: numb


	228. Safe Bet

It was a gamble, but then again, she supposed everything was. She wasn't a Seer; she didn't know how she would feel about him in forty years, or eighty years, or even just in ten years. She didn't know who they would become or what they would do with their lives. She didn't know what doors choosing him would close.

But what she _did_ know was that, while the nature of their relationship might change, she never wanted its presence to. When she looked back at the end of her life, she didn't want him to just be part of her past; she wanted him to be by her side. And she would fight to keep him there.

In a way, marrying him was the biggest gamble of her life. In another, it was the safest decision she had ever made.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: gamble


	229. Paved With Good Intentions

The path from curious to cruel was shorter than Hermione had ever imagined. Wide-eyed young girls didn't stay young and often didn't stay wide-eyed, either, especially in a world that was constantly pitting itself against them. She had been forced to choose between her innocence and her life.

Sometimes, she wondered if she had made the right decision. Regulus would say she had, of course. As a rule, the further she strayed from her Gryffindor roots, the happier he was. Nevertheless, something about it didn't sit right with her. It felt like a betrayal – like she was a traitor to not just her friends, but herself.

The problem was that she had no idea how to get back to the vibrant, self-righteous but principled girl she had once been. So many of her edges had changed – for better or for worse – that they no longer fit together the way they once had. Parts of the jigsaw remained intact, but the picture would never be the same again.

 _Down, down, down you go, down the rabbit hole, but the rabbit keeps running; now, you've lost sight of home._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: path


	230. Strategy

Harry Potter was the king, and Ronald Weasley was the bishop, but Hermione Granger was the queen. In and of herself, she meant little. She was just another mudblood with a burning desire to prove herself. Yet while everyone else was focused on attacking him, she swept across the board, leaving mayhem in her wake. Without her, Harry Potter's forces would be in shambles. Without her, they could win.

Regulus Black smiled and let his hand rest on his wand. He had to prove himself to the Dark Lord before he would be admitted to the Death Eater ranks, and he knew just how he was going to do it.

He might be but a pawn, but he was going to take out the queen.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: queen


	231. Scars

When it came down to it, they were all scarred. It was hard to fight a war without suffering some kind of consequences. For some, it was physical. Lavender's body was a canvas of marred skin and burns. For others, it was emotional. Hermione knew that she was as good as anyone else - she always had - yet years of being told otherwise had left an imprint on her mind, a _but what if_ that could never get resolved. For the rest, it was mental. The troubles of Regulus' childhood were scrawled across his mind like a child's crayon scribbles across a white wall. They all manifested in different ways, yet it gave them all a common thread that they could never break. It bound them in a way that no amount of purposeful could have.

They were the veterans. They were one and they were many.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: scarred

I couldn't resist the _We Are Australian_ reference at the end.


	232. Linger

Happiness was complicated, she was finding. They had all assumed that everything would change once the war was over. In many ways, it had – but even as the world moved on, some things remained the same. Just as it didn't go from broken to healed overnight, they didn't go from outcasts to happily ever after. It wasn't just the memories and nightmares, which followed her around like a ghost with a grudge; it was also the day-to-day foibles that had fallen by the wayside while they were on the run. There were times when their days were filled with light and laughter, and others when it felt like she and Regulus always fought more than they spoke. They had been so focused on the big picture – on her protecting Harry and him choosing sides and them defeating Voldemort - that they forgot all about the little things, like common interests and talking things through and learning how to argue. At every turn, the little cracks – which they had been ignored in favour of attending to the large, gaping abyss that was Voldemort – were slowly becoming wider and making themselves known. It felt like her entire life had dissolved into plugging holes. The greatest part of the battle was over, but it was rapidly becoming clear that there was still more to come.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: happiness


	233. The Name

_Hermione._

The word is scrawled across the skin on the inside of his wrist in a gentle, flowing script. At first, it felt strange having the name of a girl he has never even met displayed so prominently on his body. Now, however, it feels as natural as breathing. Every time he is introduced to someone new, he feels his breath catch in his chest for a moment as he waits to hear the name, to see if he is, finally, about to meet _her_. It is an uncommon enough name that he isn't worried about falling in love with the wrong girl – not like his friend Emily, who only realised that the John she was about to marry wasn't the right John due to a chance meeting a few days before their wedding.

It was, to no one's surprise, a rather awkward affair.

For the past year, however, he has mostly forgotten about her, this girl that he knows nothing about except for her name and the fact they are meant for one another. He still looks and asks and feels his breath catch, but his focus has been otherwise occupied. War tends to reprioritise things.

Now, staring across the murky lake as he slowly rows towards the island, his thoughts wander. His plan is a risky one, and if he fails, it is sure to bring the Dard Lord's wrath down on his head. A life on the run is not what he envisioned offering his soulmate, yet that's the best-case scenario if this long shot doesn't pay off.

For a moment, he allows himself to wonder about her. About Hermione. Where is she? Given how insular their community is, why hasn't he met her yet – or does she live overseas? What is she doing? What was the first spell she cast? What's her favourite subject at school? Which side of the war would she be on, if given the chance? Would she be horrified by or proud of his current actions?

As the boat scrapes against hard land and he and Kreacher disembark, one last question comes to mind. It is only there for a moment, flickering like a dying lightbulb, but it brings with it a sense of dread that settles in his bones even after he tries to focus on his mission instead.

Would he ever get the chance to find out?

* * *

A/N: Prompt: natural

I was writing this for a challenge with the prompt, 'Your soulmate's name on your skin as a tattoo,' but couldn't quite hit the word count.


	234. Graveside

The cemetery was quiet save for the sound of distant traffic. Clutching the single red rose nervously in her grip, Hermione followed her friend down the creek to the graves that had been tucked away by its bank. As they reached one with a simple headstone with a sweet epigraph about friendship and loyalty followed by an engraved picture of a dog. They lay their flowers on the grave before sitting down on the grass in front of it.

"What was he like?" Hermione asked after a few moments of silence.

"He was good and brave," he replied, almost automatically, before hesitantly continuing, "and... and he was boisterous and reckless and, despite his intelligence, incredibly stupid at times."

"A typical Gryffindor?" she teased, knowing that was how he saw most of her house.

"Precisely." Regulus grinned, though there was a tint of sadness in it even then. "He was a great brother when he was around; he would always stand up for me to Mum and Dad. I'm afraid I didn't return the favour."

"He was older," she pointed out. "He was supposed to look out for you."

"I miss him," he admitted. "We weren't that close in the last few years before his death, but I miss him anyway."

Unsure what to say, Hermione rested her hand on his leg, hoping to give him comfort in whatever way she could. They remained like that for a good few minutes before, glancing over at him, she asked, "What was the dog's name?"

He looked over at her in surprise. "Pardon?"

"His dog. The engraving?"

"He never had a dog," Regulus said.

"Then why…?"

"I'm not sure. His friends were the ones who designed the gravestone. My parents refused to pay for it, and I couldn't at the time unless I had their permission, so Potter and Lupin organised and paid for it. It might have been one of their in-jokes or a reference to how he always wanted a dog. That he didn't get one in life, but he did in death, maybe." He sounded sad. Whether it was because he thought he had let down his brother or because he felt excluded from the story, she wasn't sure.

In Hermione's opinion, a gravestone didn't seem like the type of place for that kind of thing. Then again, from the little she had seen of Potter and Lupin and heard of Sirius, they had a rather different way of looking at the world than her. They rarely did things without a reason, but those reasons were often hard to discern.

One thing was for certain: she was going to ask them. Regulus had the right to know the truth. "What about you?" she asked, sensing that a change of topic might be in order. "You never did tell me whether you were a cat person or a dog person."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: death


	235. Change

The look of shock and humiliation on Ron's face haunted Hermione long after she returned home for the night. She hadn't meant to hurt him. He was one of her best friends; she wanted him to be happy. She just didn't want to be central to that happiness. There had been a time when she would have been ecstatic at the idea of going on a date, but that time had been and gone like a bird on the wind.

Her hand drifted to the locket hanging around her neck. Regulus had given it to her for her last birthday, complete with a small, sepia-toned photograph of her parents when they were first married. It wasn't heart-shaped – he had wanted it to be, he had said, but since they were keeping their relationship secret, he hadn't wanted to risk the questions it might incite – but it felt as though it might have well been.

But maybe it was time. Hermione had been the one who wanted to hide their relationship, reasoning that it was too fragile to go up against the disapproval that it was sure to be met with when they went public with it. But before she had realised it, several months had passed, and still no one knew but the two of them, her parents, and Sirius.

Perhaps, it was time to open the doors, let the light shine in, and give it the chance to thrive or wilt on its own. Perhaps, she had been too busy trying to protect and savour it to realise that it was stronger and more resilient than she'd thought.

Perhaps, it was time for a change.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: heart


	236. Rescue Mission

Regulus' heart was racing when he finally slipped into place beside Hermione, who was hiding behind a large tree. "Do all Gryffindors think they're invincible?" he asked, glancing back at the group of Death Eaters she – and, by reluctant extension, he – had just crept past. Exasperation seeped into his voice. All he had asked for was a little patience while he made sure the group really was asleep, yet before he had even finished the sentence, she had already made her way halfway across the clearing. "Or is it just you?"

Hermione peered around the wizened old trunk, her eyes searching for their next point of cover. "Some do. Some just put other people's wellbeing above their own."

He couldn't help but snort. The past few months had proven his longstanding suspicion that Gryffindors were almost unbearably sanctimonious correct, but it was still strange to witness that self-righteousness firsthand. "Where's the fun in that?"

This time, she actually turned back to face him, her eyes narrowing. "If you aren't willing to concentrate, you're welcome to go back to the camp. Or just to go. It would be safer for me to do this alone than with someone who's just going to distract me."

Regulus shot her a look of annoyance, words of protest already forming on the tip of his tongue. This mission was important to him, too; if they didn't get to where Voldemort was holding Harry, then everything they had been working towards would be for nought. It was just that the way she was approaching it was downright reckless.

Then again, he supposed he should've expected her response. Gryffindors liked dealing in absolutes; people were for them or against them, good or bad, right or wrong. They seemed to have trouble wrapping their heads around someone who might agree with them in some respects but disagree in others.

He felt his response die in his throat. Hermione was better at seeing ambiguity than most of her friends, but she still struggled when the time came to actually interact with it. But this wasn't the place to try to change that. "I'm not leaving," he said. "We might approach things differently, but this matters to me, too."

She huffed before nodding and turning around again, seemingly content to let the matter drop.

 _Gryffindors._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: patience


	237. Alliance

Setting her bag down on the floor, Hermione slid into the seat across from Regulus. He didn't seem to notice her at first; library books were strewn out on the table between them, and his head was bowed down over a piece of parchment, his hair flopping down to cover his eyes as they skimmed the words he had written. Hermione slipped her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at him underneath the table, her grip made tight by nerves. Her little trip to the past was proving to be harder than she'd anticipated. She had read enough science fiction to know that time was complicated and that the smallest of changes could spiral out of control, but she hadn't been prepared for just how much her presence could affect the little things. According to her wards, Kreacher had already accompanied Voldemort to the cave by the sea. That meant that, in her original timeline, Regulus would have been dead by now. But, somehow, he wasn't. She had no idea whether that meant that Voldemort had found some other defenceless house-elf to take him, or that Kreacher hadn't told Regulus yet, or that this Regulus wasn't as protective of his friend as the other one had been. But if she was going to have any chance to defeat the Horcruxes, she had to find out.

At least she knew how to disguise herself. Between the Polyjuice Potion she had taken and the appearance-altering charms she had layered on top of it for good measure, she looked nothing like her true self. With wispy blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes, she was her complete opposite. And she could cast a mean Obliviation Charm if needed – hence the wand under the table.

"Does the word 'locket' mean anything to you?" she asked mildly.

Regulus flinched, and his head jerked up, his grey eyes narrowing as they settled on her. "Pardon?"

"Does the word 'locket' mean anything to you?" she repeated in exactly the same tone, pleased that she had unnerved him. He was a Slytherin through and through and was well practised at concealing his emotions. Hopefully, the suddenness of the question would give her the chance to catch a glimpse of his real feelings before he managed to put the walls back up again.

Regulus stared at her for a long moment. Shock was written as clearly across his face as she had ever seen it. "Of course," he eventually said, sounding as if he were striving for composed but falling short of the mark. "It's a common piece of girls' jewellery."

It was a struggle to suppress the grin that threatened to burst out at his response. Somehow, it was simultaneously too measured and not measured enough.

He was spooked.

Hermione shook her head. "You know that's not what I meant. Don't worry; I made sure no one else can hear us."

When he spoke next, he seemed to be in control of himself again. "Even if it did mean something," he said, and she was pleased to note that he had apparently decided that feigning ignorance was futile, "why would you care?"

She took a deep breath, her façade cracking ever so slightly. This was the part that she had been most nervous about; he had more to lose by being open than she did, so if she wanted him to talk, she would have to be the one to stick her neck out first. "I care," she said, "because I'm not a fan of jewellery in general. I would like nothing more than to destroy every last piece – starting with lockets. Or just one locket; I'm not picky."

Meeting his gaze directly, she hoped that he could decipher her meaning. She had cast a few Anti-Detection and Muffling Charms before approaching him, of course, but she didn't want to be too overt in what was still a public place. Details could wait until later, after she knew that this Regulus was as determined to get revenge on Voldemort as the one from her original timeline had been. Constant vigilance, after all.

Regulus' eyes narrowed and then widened, a disgusted look flitting across his face. Clearing his throat, he looked down at the quill that was still laying on the desk in front of him. "There's more than one?" he asked so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.

"Yes."

"And how do you know all of this?" he asked, suspicion clouding his eyes as his gaze met hers once more.

"It's a long story."

"Fine," he said. "Let's just say I know where you can find the locket – what then? I haven't the first clue how to destroy it."

"I've got that part covered."

"You're going to need to give me more than that if you want my help."

Hermione grinned as he finally bit the bait she had been dangling in front of him ever since she first sat down at the table. It was true that she needed him to find the locket; while Harry had detailed the protective measures that Voldemort had put in place, she didn't know how to get there. However, she didn't just want his help with the locket. If she was going to get to the diary – let alone the cup – she would need someone Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy trusted on her side.

Someone like him.

"This isn't the place for that conversation," she said. "But if you're willing to trust me enough to follow me, I know somewhere that is."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: question


	238. 1979

One moment, everything was normal. The next, there was an explosion of colour and noise, and Hermione was sucked backwards into some kind of vortex. Bright colours swirled around her, seeping into one another until they seemed like one big 'artistic' mess. Her head spun and her whole body ached. Then, she was being thrown out of the chaos and dispelled on the ground. Hermione felt bile rising in the back of her throat and grabbed her stomach, willing it not to move any further. She was aware of nothing except her nausea and the soreness in her limbs.

"Are you alright?" an unfamiliar voice asked, and the outside world came rushing in again.

"I don't know." Blinking blearily, she took in her surroundings. Half-dead grass stretched out around her, interrupted only by the occasional leafless tree or mound of dirt. It was bleak and commonplace and eerily familiar to her; it looked like the place she had just left. That didn't make sense, though. Why was it so empty? And if she was still in the same place, what was the purpose of that portal?

A chill ran down her back. "Where am I?"

"You don't remember?" the stranger asked, his voice laced with concern. "You must have hit your head pretty badly."

"I must have," she said. She hadn't, but it might be better if he thought she had. It would provide a good cover while she tried to work out what was going on.

"We're at Hogwarts," he said, confirming her suspicions.

She tore her gaze away from the scenery and looked over at him. At some point during their conversation, he had crouched down beside her, watching her with concerned eyes. That wasn't the most noteworthy thing about him, however.

No; the most noteworthy thing was that, for a moment, it felt like she was face-to-face with Sirius Black. He had the black hair and grey eyes that ran in the family, although he was younger and looked more feline than she remembered. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she would have thought – Her breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes. It was true that the mystical vortex hadn't sent her somewhere else.

But it _had_ sent her some _time_ else.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: bleak


	239. A Start

"That went well, don't you think?" Hermione asked as she and Regulus stepped through the front door of her small single-bedroom flat.

"Very funny," he replied dryly. After spending the whole morning making nice with her friends, he had come to the conclusion that none of them would ever actually like him. Their judgmental glances and condescending comments had worn his patience thin, and if they hadn't left when they had, there was a very real chance that he would have walked out. It was a shame. Their obvious dislike wasn't much of a loss for him personally – one reckless Gryffindor was more than enough for anyone's social circle, in his opinion – but he knew that it was important to Hermione that they get along.

Turning to face him as she put her handbag down on the kitchen counter, his girlfriend frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you hear what they were saying?"

"They were a little brusque, but honestly, I was expecting worse," she said. "Ginny likes you – "

"Does she? I couldn't tell."

" – she's just naturally sarcastic, and Harry and Ron are starting to come around. You just need to give them time to see that you've changed."

"Hermione, they reminded me of my father." While his mother was outspoken about her hatred for Muggle-borns, his father usually kept his prejudice to veiled remarks and hidden slights that he could easily brush aside if anyone ever called him out on them.

From the discomfort that fluttered across her face, he could tell that the comparison had hit a nerve. He could see why; given Hermione's bluntness, she found it easier to deal with outright criticism than subtle barbs. The idea that her friends might be behaving anything like his father had to hurt, even if their comments were more justified than Orion Black's.

"Alright," she said, "I'll talk to them about it. Just promise me that you will give them a chance as well."

Regulus nodded.

It was a start, at least.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: sarcastic


	240. Muggle-born or Slytherin?

Regulus rolled his eyes when he entered the Slytherin common room to find Hermione Granger asleep on the lounge with _literal_ _stacks_ of books surrounding her. A large, unlit candle sat beside her, the wick worn down to a whisper. Taking a bite of his apple, he examined her curiously. If she were a Gryffindor, she would have been teased; a Ravenclaw, understood; a Hufflepuff, helped. But she was none of those; she was, by some strange turn of events, a Slytherin. He was torn between waking her and insisting she go to bed, finishing her essay for her so he would be one favour up on her, and leaving her there for the night.

The question, of course, came down to whether she counted as a real Slytherin. Since her grandfather had been a Squib, the girl was technically a half-blood – but ever since term started four weeks prior, he had been trying to work out whether that was enough. If it was, he should protect her by sending her upstairs; if it wasn't, he should make the most of the opportunity by seizing the potential for blackmail material. The girl was only a first year, but the professors had already practically banded together to declare her brilliance. One day, it might prove useful to have her goodwill.

Then again, based on what he knew of her so far, she might just end up feeling offended that he hadn't given her the chance to do the work herself.

At least that decided the matter. Sighing, he flicked his wand and cast the Waking Charm his parents had used on him as a child. The sleeping first year was startled awake with a small gasp. Of course; half-blood or not, a Muggle-raised like her wouldn't be used to the irritating flicking spell.

"What am I – ?" she asked, rubbing her eyes wearily as she slowly sat up.

"I came downstairs to grab something to eat and found you here," he said, taking another bite of the apple. "You must have fallen asleep studying."

"Oh." She blinked blearily as she looked around at the books and papers surrounding her. "Thanks."

"I didn't want to wake you, but – " His eyebrows drew together as she, instead of panicking about lost time, simply started gathering together her materials. "What are you doing?"

Hermione shot him an incredulous look, although the sleep nestled in the corner of her eyes took away most of its potency. "Going to bed."

"What about your essay?"

Her expression turned regretful. "I know; I really wanted to get it done tonight. But it won't put me too far behind to wait for tomorrow. That will still give me six days to make revisions."

 _Well,_ he thought as she finished packing up and, with one last thank you, left for the girls' dormitory, _that didn't go as planned._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: charm


	241. For Now

Marriage is never going to be in the cards for them. The lives they lead are just too different; she would never fit into his world, and while her family would accept him, he would always feel like an outsider in hers. Even the way they look at things is incompatible. Her tendency to rush headfirst into things would grow to wear on his nerves, while his preference for hanging back and protecting himself would infuriate her. She knows that anything they build together will ultimately fall apart, leaving nothing but ruins to mark the fact that it ever existed.

But he makes her laugh – a loud, open guffaw that starts in her stomach and is too strong to hold in. She has never really been one for jokes. She appreciates them well enough, and she'll even make one sometimes, but she is usually too focused on studying for school or finding a way to protect Harry to really enjoy them. With him, however, it's just _different_. When the weight of the upcoming war is at its heaviest and it feels like her shoulders are about to break under the pressure, he knows how to make her smile. Her friends may not like him, but they can see that he makes her happy. And in such a time, moments of happiness are a rare commodity.

She knows that it isn't going to last. Even if they both make it through this thing alive, both sides of the war will just turn their catapults from each other to them, and the walls they're building will crumble under the onslaught. But for now, she's going to make the most of what they have.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: marriage


	242. Ends and Beginnings

The Astronomy Tower looms overhead as Hermione and Regulus stroll around the perimeter of the castle. After a day spent sitting back-to-back exams before cramming for the next set, the break – as brief as it is – does wonders for her mood, putting a lightness in her step that hasn't been there since before the exam period started. The sun is beginning to set, and deep pinks and purples are splashed across the sky like watercolour paint across a canvas. Curfew is fast approaching, but she doesn't want to go inside just yet. As their hands knock against one another for the third time in the past few minutes, she feels his turn and grasp hers, their fingers weaving together like a zip.

Regulus is silent for a moment, as if he's waiting to see if she'll say anything or move her hand away. When she doesn't, he says, "Just think: less than a month from now, and we'll be finished school for good."

"It feels strange," she replies. "All my life has been working towards this moment, and now I don't want to leave."

"I know what you mean. We're not just leaving our school; we're leaving our home, really."

Hermione nods. "I wish we could come back every now and again."

"To make sure the castle's still here?" he teases.

"As silly as it sounds, yes. We've spent the better part of the last seven years here, and one day, we're going to wake up and possibly never come back."

"We will."

She looks over at him, amused by the certainty in his voice. "How can you be so sure?"

He nudges her shoulder with his. "The professors all love you. If you want to ever come back, all you have to do is say the word and they'll let you in."

"That _is_ true."

"Besides," Regulus adds, "my grandmother always says that the best beginning is an end. If the end is this big, just think about how big the beginning will have to be."

He's never going to be a poet, but as Hermione glances down at their intertwined hands, she can't help but do just that.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: beginning


	243. Nineteen

The candles encircle the chocolate cake like a halo, casting a warm glow that lights up both the room and her heart. There are nineteen little balls of flickering flame; one candle for each of the years she's lived. Hermione has never really understood the point of birthdays before – what are they really celebrating, when it comes down to it? – but this time, she gets it. It's life. It's pushing through and surviving even when it's difficult.

They made it through the battle, but the war isn't over. Not fully. There are still Death Eaters to catch and messes to clean up and wounds to heal. But in the small living room of the first apartment she has ever rented, sitting in front of what seems to be more flame than cake and surrounded by her closest friends and her boyfriend, the sadness that has plagued her since the battle finally gives way to hope. Life goes on. Hope endures.

"Is this the part where you make the wish?" Regulus asks as the singing stops. His eyes are alight with curiosity.

Harry laughs. "It really isn't very exciting. She'll just close her eyes for a bit and blow out the candles. No one will even know if she _does_ make a wish except for her."

Despite Harry's friendly ribbing, Hermione smiles, charmed by Regulus' enthusiasm. At first, he was shocked when she mentioned making a wish on a birthday cake; apparently, it's an exclusively Muggle tradition. Given how most witches and wizards seem to have firsthand experience with the old adage _be careful what you wish for,_ she isn't all that surprised. Nevertheless, he has taken to the tradition with the same eagerness with which he has been exploring all things Muggle lately. She can't help but find it endearing; she knows that he still has subconscious biases and aversions and has come up against them herself in the past, but she appreciates that he's working on them.

Reaching under the table, she takes his hand in hers and squeezes it. After giving him a quick wink, she closes her eyes, leans forward, and thinks, _I wish this lasts; I wish we go the distance._

She doesn't know whether it's a coincidence or something more, but the moment she blows out the candles is the moment Regulus decides to squeeze her hand back.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: charmed

Written for Maisie Malfoy for the Drabble Game Challenge (prompt: Hermione/Regulus, candle)


	244. The Kid

When Harry returned home from his deep cover mission in Wales, he knew it would take some time to readjust. He hadn't lived in a proper house for months, nor did he have any idea what his friends had been up to during that time. Anything could have happened; for all he knew, Ron and Susan had eloped, Hermione had quit her job, and Ginny had joined a circus with an act that involved literally turning herself into a monkey. So it was with great trepidation that, the day after he got back, he threw a handful of Floo Powder into his fireplace and stepped through to meet his friends for lunch at Hermione and Regulus' house.

Their living room looked subtly but fundamentally different to how he remembered it. The furniture was all the same, but there was a box of toys in one corner and a stack of children's books sitting on an armchair. Harry frowned, struggling to process what he was seeing. Had he gotten the address wrong? Had Hermione and Regulus forgotten to tell him they'd moved? Had something happened to Andromeda?

A slow shuffling sound came from his left, and Harry instinctively looked over towards it. His confusion only grew when he caught sight of a ten-year-old kid staring down at what looked like a sketchpad. He took a step backwards, considering making a break for the fireplace, but before he could, the boy looked up at him and smiled shyly.

"Are you Harry?"

"Er… Yes?"

" _Harry!_ " Hermione rushed into the room and pulled him into a tight hug, almost as if he were a stress ball and she was taking out all of the suspense he'd put her through over the last few months out on him. "I can't believe you're finally back!"

"It's good to be back," Harry said, before lowering his voice to a whisper. "Confusing, though. I could have sworn you didn't have a kid when I left."

"Oh, that's Ian," she replied, her voice just as quiet. "Regulus and I are fostering him. It's still fairly new; I'll explain later."

The moment she finished speaking, Hermione stepped back and turned to face the child. "Ian, this is my best friend, Harry. He's the one Reg and I have told you about."

"Hermione said you went away to catch bad guys," he said.

Harry still felt like the rug had been well and truly taken out from under him and had the suspicion that it would not be returned anytime soon, but now that she mentioned it, he did remember the couple going through the application process before he left. He had just always assumed that they were talking about babies. It made sense, though. It was hard to picture either of his friends with a crying baby in their arms, but he could see them both engaging with and raising older children. "I did. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"Have a seat," Hermione said. "Reg is helping Kreacher with something, but he should be down soon."

They settled into the armchairs surrounding the room. Harry still had a lot of questions about Ian – how long he would be there, for one – but he didn't want to ask them in front of the kid in case they were touchy subjects. Instead, he smiled and, leaning forward, said, "It all started when my boss called me into a secret meeting room and said not to tell anyone…"

He could get his own answers later.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: toys

Shout out to my brother and the terrifying joy that is Monkey Madness.


	245. Six Months In

Sirius laughed when Regulus told him where Hermione was taking him. "Have fun," he said, but his words were belied by the amusement that he didn't even try to hide. "Let me know if these 'rollercoasters' are even half as good as flying."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Shove off, Sirius."

"You can't tell me you're not thinking the same thing."

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied. And he was. Truthfully, his expectations weren't much higher than his brother's; nothing could beat flying, and while he was fascinated with the idea of a Muggle equivalent, he didn't expect to enjoy the rollercoasters and fireworks Hermione kept raving about. But the day out obviously meant a lot to her, and he was looking forward to seeing more of her birth culture.

Sirius scoffed. "Maybe you should take Moony. He hasn't been on a broom since first year, so hemight actually get something out of it."

"Isn't Luna coming over soon?" Regulus asked. "You're still in your pyjamas."

Fortunately, the distraction worked as planned. Sirius' eyes widened as he glanced over at the clock on the wall, then he raced out of the room and up the stairs, his footsteps pounding against the floorboards like the beat of a drum.

Grabbing his leather jacket and quickly slipping into it, Regulus hurriedly made his way out the door before Sirius could return and pester him some more. He was glad that he and his brother were finally on speaking terms again, but he'd forgotten just how _annoying_ Sirius could be. He treated everything like it was a joke, and while Regulus could admit that he needed more humour in his life, the fact that Sirius never knew when to rein it in got on his nerves.

He did his best to push those thoughts out of his mind as he walked to the flower shop at the bottom of the street. It was his six-month anniversary with Hermione, and he didn't want to ruin the day by spending it caught up in his own head.

Unless these so-called rollercoasters and fireworks ended up being as dull as Sirius expected. If so, Regulus might have to make an exception.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: leather jacket


	246. Headfirst

When it comes to academics, there has never been a prize or accolade that Hermione Granger can't win with both hands tied behind her back. From a young age, she learnt to set her own goalposts rather than judging her achievements in relation to those of her classmates. It has been a lonely path, but it's a fulfilling one. And it's one that she has relished in.

Until now – until him.

Regulus Black is the first person in a long time who has challenged her in class. Between a slew of top-notch one-on-one tutors and the drive to put in the effort required to do well, he has even beaten her on occasion. Never long-term – her overall rankings are still higher than his, and she can't see that changing – but enough to put her on edge.

It's not that she can't win; it's that she can't know for certain that she will. She is so accustomed to being head and shoulders above the rest that even the slightest hint of competition is a shock. Having someone who can not only reach her but sometimes _surpass_ her is a new feeling.

She hates it.

She knows that Harry and Ron are concerned by how much she's been studying lately. They have even taken to dropping by the library every few days to convince her to take a break by going for a walk around the lake with them. She gives in most of the time; it's quicker to go for the walk than it is to argue, and she usually does feel reinvigorated afterwards.

For the most part, though, she waves away their concern. After all, it's their last year at Hogwarts; if there's ever a time to throw herself headfirst into her schoolwork, it's now.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: competition


	247. In Relation to Books

Regulus leant back in his chair triumphantly as he finished his essay comparing the sociolinguistic context of the three most common runic languages. As much as he loved the subject, parts of it veered dangerously close to being dull, so he was relieved to finally be able to put it behind him. He put his work away in his bag and looked over at Hermione, who was relaxing with a book about advanced herbology. "If you could only read one book for the rest of your life, which one would you choose?" he asked.

She shot him a look of genuine betrayal, almost as if he'd suggested getting rid of her cat. "What kind of a question is that?"

"One that isn't rhetorical."

Hermione glanced down at the book in her hands, and for a moment, he wondered whether she was going to choose it out of curiosity alone. Gryffindors tended to prioritise instant gratification, after all. "I don't know," she eventually said. "Probably the longest book I could find that I hadn't read yet. Preferably a book-series-in-one set."

He nodded, contemplating her answer.

"What about you?" she asked, a challenge in her voice. He had no doubt that she was thinking that if _she_ had to answer, then _he_ should, too.

 _Gryffindors._

"My own," he said without hesitation. "Except as a draft so I could change and tinker away at it as much as I wanted."

Hermione couldn't imagine that being anything but torturous. Surely it would get to a point where all he wanted to do was put it aside and never, ever see it again. It was true that it would be more interactive and so potentially account for more of his time, but then it there would be no end to the frustration of trying to get particular scenes and sentences exactly right.

Then again, she supposed that was the difference between them. She'd done creative writing in primary school when she had to, and her marks had been above average, but she'd never _enjoyed_ it. To Hermione, fiction was equations and patterns and puzzle pieces, all designed to get a particular point across. There was no joy in it, no reason to choose it over any other activity; it was a means to an end that was rarely even reached. A long book with layers and twists that she could pull apart and analyse and read again in a new light would always hold more appeal for her.

But to him, writing was imagination and freedom and need, something that had to be let out before the moment passed and it faded away. Whether it was good or bad didn't seem to matter to him as much as the fact that it _was_. She could recall and reproduce knowledge and ideas better than anyone, but she couldn't create it – _he_ could.

Hermione had learned throughout their friendship that that was something that she would never understand and that it was easier not to dwell on it. Instead of arguing the point like she would have when they first met, she settled on a neutral, "That's an interesting choice."

He laughed. "You would say that."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: challenge


	248. Networking

Hermione took a sip of her wine, trying to block out the sound of people chattering around her. The event was supposed to be for networking, but all anyone wanted to talk about was the rumour of the day. She had learned about two suspected pregnancies and an all-but-confirmed affair within the last hour alone. If one thing was clear, it was that she should never trust any of her colleagues with personal information unless she was happy for it to be broadcast throughout their social circles.

If moving ahead in her career meant feigning interest in stories about a stranger of a stranger, she was beginning to think she had chosen the wrong profession. Honestly, professors were worse than Lavender and Parvati; at least her former roommates were open about what they were like. Here, the pettiness was hidden behind a veneer of prim decorum.

And she was terrible at navigating the space between avoiding gossip and keeping the conversation flowing smoothly. When she addressed the issue outright, she had a habit of doing so abruptly and causing offence. But when she didn't, she tended to get pulled into the discussion, participating more than she intended to. It was a no-win situation that she would far prefer to avoid altogether.

Fortunately, Regulus had a knack for socialising and making people feel noticed. While Hermione faltered at these kinds of gatherings, her husband seemed to always find the perfect way to redirect conversations without causing a scene.

 _It's almost like magic,_ she thought wryly.

But it was only to be expected. After all, she had spent most of her formative years alone, favouring books over children her age, while he had constantly been pushed into social situations and taught how to work a room. It was little wonder that he was more comfortable with crowds now.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to regret her studiousness; she wouldn't have survived Hogwarts without it. And these events only took place once or twice a year, so it wasn't as if they were unmanageable, especially since Neville and Hannah usually attended as well. Still, in hindsight, she couldn't help but think that it would have been worthwhile to spend a little more time developing the people skills that came so easily to Regulus.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: rumour


	249. Shreds

With a flick of her wand, Hermione tore Regulus' letter to shreds. Flecks of parchment flitted to the floor like the saddest attempt at confetti she had ever seen, taking his hollow words with them. Before she could second-guess herself, she gathered the scraps together, stuffed them in an envelope, and tied it to the owl's leg. If he was going to order the bird wait for a reply he knew she didn't want to give, then she had no qualms with giving him a response she knew he wouldn't want to get.

She was sure his letter had been filled with beautifully written apologies and promises, but she didn't want to read them. If she read them, she might believe them, and if she believed them, she might take him back.

And she didn't have the slightest intention of doing so. Not this time.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: shreds


	250. Long Game

Regulus pulled his coat tighter around him as he picked a path through the knee-length grass, watching his step to make sure he didn't sink ankle-deep into the mud. The first chills of autumn were starting to set in, exchanging sunny days for bleary skies. Still, nothing would keep him from his weekly walk around the edges of the property. Since Sirius had been disowned and removed from the line of inheritance, the house would go to Regulus when he turned twenty-five.

He felt slightly guilty for taking his brother's birthright, but not enough to turn it down. Not when he already had plans for it – plans that Sirius would appreciate but would never think to instigate himself. It was selfish, perhaps, but he had never claimed to be otherwise.

When the war was over, he intended to convert it into a school with the aim of teaching Muggle-borns and half-bloods the ins and outs of wizarding culture as they left Hogwarts and prepared to enter the workforce. His parents would hate it, of course, but by that time, it would not be their decision to make.

It had been Hermione's idea. The pair had struck up an unlikely friendship in their seventh year during their time as Head Girl and Head Boy. During one of their patrols, he had mentioned not knowing what to do with the land, and she had pitched the concept as a challenge, clearly not expecting him to go along with it. But it had appealed to him from the first; one of his main issues with the Muggle-borns in their year was that they simply did not understand the norms of their world and expected society to change for them rather than the other way around. Making those unspoken rules and norms visible would help solve the worst of the problem.

Over time, their friendship taught him the hard lesson that Muggle culture and society was in no way inferior to his own. Still, the fact remained that Muggle-borns and half-bloods would never succeed in their world if they did not understand it, even if they chose not to adopt their ways as their own.

By the end of the school year, it had gone from a crazy idea to one he couldn't shake to a solid goal with a detailed plan of attack. At first, he had planned on supplying the land and the infrastructure and letting her handle the day-to-day running of the school. But the more they talked about it, the more invested he became, and the harder it was to picture having such a hands-off role. One day, maybe, when it was up and running and could continue to function without him, but not now.

Now, just two months shy of twenty-one, everything was starting to fall into place. They had both studied teaching and were about to start teaching at Hogwarts. They were both taking note of anything they saw that they thought would be worth incorporating into their curriculum, and they were beginning to brainstorm ways to present things in lessons.

The worst part was having to keep the school – and his friendship with Hermione – secret until he turned twenty-five. The moment his parents caught a whiff of it, he would be off the family tapestry. He had to make sure they heard nothing of it until the deeds were in his name and their plans well underway.

It was going to be tough to sit through family dinners and pretend his political views were the same as they had always been, just as it would be painful to continue to see the condemnation in Sirius' eyes for the next four years. But one day, the truth would come out, and the school would be built, and his brother would forgive him.

He hoped.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: mud


	251. Wispy

Regulus had always known that their relationship wasn't made to last. Between his family and Hermione's ambitions and everything in between, they had been fighting a losing battle from the start. And while he knew that she didn't want to admit it, he suspected that she had known as well.

It had been a wonderful dream, shepherding him through the war with the promise of a life after the fighting ceased. Whenever he doubted that he would make it through alive, he would draw on their memories and hopes to pull himself through the darkness. Every time, he had felt a little bit stronger afterwards, a little bit less certain in the inevitability of them breaking up.

But then the war ended, and reality returned, and the cracks became visible once more. And as he walked away from her house for what was likely to be the last time, his eyes opening and the last grips of sleep fading away, he realised that that was all it had ever been: a wonderful, wispy, fleeting dream.

It had been special, and he wouldn't undo it for anything. But it was never meant to survive beyond the war.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: dream

Happy Easter!


	252. Consequences

Hermione sighed as she left the house her parents had moved into upon their return to England after the war. It was cosy, but it didn't have the same depth of history and sentimentality as her childhood home used to. The shift from the warm brick veneer to a more modernist design had surprised her, although she supposed it suited her parents' new taste. While they had retained the core of their personalities, the friends and experiences they had made during their time in Melbourne had altered them. The changes weren't bad, necessarily, but she wasn't entirely comfortable with them, either.

 _Actions have consequences, Hermione,_ she reminded herself, the voice in her head sounding suspiciously like her father's had when she'd acted up as a child. _You knew that when you took their memories._

Restoring what she had taken had been a long and trying process, dwarfed only by the strain of trying to reconnect with them and regain their trust. Even now, there was a distance there – a wariness – that never had been before.

When Regulus had first told them about the events of the past several years, she had been furious. The better part of a decade she had spent carefully controlling the flow of information had gone down the drain in an instant, adding one more hurdle to a relationship that already had enough obstacles to trip up the best of athletes.

The worst thing was that her fiancé hadn't seemed to realise the enormity of what he had done. His family had known and lived the conflict as surely as they had, and it hadn't occurred to him that she might have wilfully chosen to keep hers in the dark. It was difficult to be mad at him when he really hadn't seen any harm in his actions.

Besides, as reluctant as she was to admit it, the situation seemed to be working itself out. Now that there were no more secrets, she was able to be more open with her parents than she had been since the day she was attacked by a troll and dragged headfirst into a world of danger and mystery. It was rather nice to be able to speak to them freely again.

Still, that did little to dull the awkwardness and ease the lingering sense of betrayal. She knew that the only thing that would solve those issues was time.

The only problem was that she had never been a particularly patient person.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: mad

The netball team I'm co-coaching had their first game today. They went incredibly well, and I got incredibly sunburnt.


	253. Forgotten

As the Inferi's hands close around him, dragging him down into the water's depths, Regulus' sole regret is that nobody will ever know the truth. If he had more time to prepare, he might have left a note for his brother, but as it is, the only one who knows what he's doing is Kreacher, and he swore the house-elf to secrecy. History will swallow up his death, leaving no traces behind.

Sirius will never know. Hermione will never know.

His flailing limbs slow as his strength starts to fade. Forcing himself not to think about the gruesome creatures around him, he pulls an image of his ex-girlfriend into his mind. Their impassioned arguments were legendary, and no topic fired them as much as the Dark Lord he pledged his life to. Her blood is as pure as his, but while he was raised to see that as a point of pride, she sees it as merely incidental.

That was, ultimately, the reason they broke up. She thinks he is a snob; he, until this moment, thought she was a headstrong fool.

It feels a little hypocritical to continue thinking that now.

With the benefit of hindsight, it's clear that it would never have worked out between them. Her nonchalance regarding upper-class norms and morals is quaint, but he knows the charm would have worn off with time, leaving behind nothing but a sense of mutual frustration.

Still, she – and Sirius, for that matter – would be proud to know that some of their many debates had, even subliminally, gotten through to him.

It's a shame that they never will.

 _Hermione,_ he thinks. _Father. Mother. Kreacher. Sirius._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: morals


	254. Flushed Out

The rains came the day Voldemort killed Harry Potter, painting the usually-lush grounds of Hogwarts grey and dreary as it flushed all good out of the school. As the Death Eaters swept through the school, the defenders fled, recognising that their only choice was escape or death. It was one thing to lay down one's life to defeat the evil villain; it was another to die needlessly once he had already won.

Hermione didn't like the idea of running; cowardice had never become her. When she told Harry that she would go to the forest with him so he didn't have to go alone, she'd meant it. But with Harry and Ron both having fallen to enemy wands, she was now the person who knew the most about Voldemort and the Horcrux hunt. If she died, that knowledge would die with her, and any hope of defeating Voldemort with it.

So she reluctantly agreed to make what Regulus delicately referred to as a tactical retreat, Apparating away with Ginny, Luna, and Neville to find somewhere to regroup before building a new line of defence. What that would look like was still up in the air, especially with so many of the old guard gone, but they didn't have the luxury of being able to complain about it.

They didn't like leaving Regulus behind, but he'd managed to keep his cover intact during the war, and he was more valuable to the cause undercover. They still didn't know why the plan had failed – whether Voldemort had more Horcruxes or had a second kind of failsafe in place – but he was their best chance at finding out.

And that was how, as rainy day turned to rainy night and then back to rainy day again, Hermione did the most Slytherin thing she had ever done as Regulus did the most Gryffindor thing _he_ had ever done.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: rainy day


	255. Horoscope

"Do you want me to read your horoscope?" Lavender asked as she sunk into the seat beside Hermione. "I put them together for all of the girls in our dorm this morning."

Hermione glanced up from her bowl of cereal. Her housemate had an eager expression on her face and a scroll of parchment clenched tightly in her hands. Glancing at it briefly, she could see lines of neat cursive covering almost all the available space.

"Not really," she said, turning back to her breakfast. Divination couched as Astronomy was, at the end of the day, still just Divination.

"But it's _interesting_." Hermione could hear the pout in the other girl's voice. "It says you'll meet someone special today."

Hermione shrugged and, unable to resist messing with Lavender, said in her primmest voice, "I'm sure I'll meet a lot of people today – that _is_ what this tournament is about, you know – and they'll all be special in their own right."

Lavender rolled her eyes with a huff. "Suit yourself, but don't blame me when you meet 'the one' and aren't ready for him."

There were so many things that were wrong with that sentence, but Hermione knew from experience that when it came to Lavender and Parvati, it was easier not to engage. Whenever she tried to argue with them, she just got dragged into an even longer conversation. She settled for an amused, "I'll try not to."

-x-

The large, heavy doors of the Great Hall opened slowly with a loud _creak_ to reveal a group of students bedecked in warm fur coats. Silence descended on the room as the delegation started to enter, their stern faces distant and imposing.

"Is that real fur?" Hermione asked under her breath, unimpressed.

From the other side of the table, Faye shrugged. "Animals rank under creatures in the wizarding world, and you know how badly they treat _those_."

"Don't start," Ron muttered. "We don't want another spew."

"It's not _spew_ – "

"Honestly, Granger, can't this wait until afterwards?" Lavender hissed. "You're ruining their entrance."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she let it go. She _was_ curious about the Durmstrang students, after all; she had researched the other wizarding schools in first year, but so little was known about them that it hadn't been very informative. Besides, experience indicated that no matter how many times she tried to correct her classmates' pronunciation, they weren't going to listen. She might as well enjoy the pomp.

Turning back to the procession, she blinked in surprise a pair of familiar grey eyes met her gaze. Her breath fled as if she had been punched in the gut. With dark hair and good looks tarnished only an aura of haughtiness, his relation to Sirius was unmistakeable. This, then, was the nephew who had been sent abroad to live with family after his parents' untimely deaths ten years prior. " _Harry_ ," she murmured, leaning closer to her friend as the boy continued to stare straight at her.

Had he heard about their escapades at the end of the year before? What did he know about his uncle's near-death experience and their role in saving him? Did he think Sirius was innocent or guilty? Would he approach them to find out more about that night? In his place, that was exactly what she would do.

"I know," Harry whispered back.

"That's just weird," Ron said from his other side. "It's like looking into a Mirror of Youth."

Or was he planning on throwing his name in for the position of Durmstrang champion? To come all this way, he must be. Hermione wondered how Sirius would react.

 _If the tournament were based on looks alone, there would be no question that he would get it_ , she thought. _We'll just have to see if he has any actual talent to back that up._

Given his relation to Sirius, he probably did. As dark as they were, the Blacks were known for magical aptitude.

Regulus Black's gaze broke from hers. He glanced over at Harry and Ron before turning back to her for a moment, inclining his head slightly, and then continuing to survey the room as a whole.

Lavender and Parvati sighed so loudly and with such synchronisation that Hermione was certain it had to be put on.

"What?" she asked, irritated. If Lavender was about to start in on the hogwash with the horoscope again –

Parvati shot her a look. "Are you blind? It's _Viktor Krum_."

"Oh." She glanced over at the international Quidditch star, who was bringing up the rear with what appeared to be the Durmstrang Headmaster. She hadn't even noticed he was there.

 _We need to get a message to Sirius,_ she thought, turning back to the watch as the first few students reached the far end of the House tables. _We need to see what he wants us to do if Regulus starts asking questions._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: straight


	256. Champion Pt 1

Hermione was mentally berating herself the whole time she was swimming through the murky depths of the Great Lake. In hindsight, putting her name in that blasted cup had been a horrendous idea. It would have been better – and safer – just to stay as an observer. While most of her classmates had been spending all their spare time gushing about the last task and anticipating the next one, she was stuck in a constant cycle of anxiety and fear.

The worst part of it was that she didn't care about winning. It would be a great honour, of course, and she wouldn't turn it down, but her real motivation for joining wasn't anything as mundane as prize money or fame. No, what she wanted was _change._ Half of the people she met were convinced that she was inferior to them just because she was a Muggle-born, and the other half paid lip service to equality while treating her like a pet who had learned to do a clever trick. She was so over it that when the Headmaster announced the Triwizard Tournament, she had jumped at the chance to throw her name in the ring.

Her rationale had been that if she beat out all pureblood and half-blood candidates to become the first Muggle-born to be a champion in the Triwizard Tournament, then nobody would be able to deny that she was just as worthy of her magic as they were.

The moment she had realised that the first task involved _actual dragons_ , she had regretted the impulsive decision, but by then, it was too late.

Her parents had always said that her obsession with righting social wrongs would get her in trouble one day if she wasn't careful.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to regret it entirely. No matter what it might cost her, _it had worked._ Even Regulus Black, who had been among the worst offenders, hadn't spoken out against her since it was announced. A few young Ravenclaws had tried, but they had quickly been shushed by their older classmates. After all, calling her insignificant would, by definition, mean that they – all of whom had put their names in the Cup and been passed over by it – were even more so.

Her greatest hope was that the change would be permanent and, if she had any luck, deeper than just refraining from insulting her. One of the first-year Slytherins had even asked her what a television was the other day.

Change was coming; that much was certain. The only question now was whether she would be able to save Harry – who had decided not to put his name in the Cup and yet had, somewhat predictably, been dragged into the mess anyway – and return to the surface in time to see it. While she knew that the Headmaster wouldn't allow any of the hostages to die in the task, she wasn't as certain about the champions.

Kicking hard, she continued to propel herself forward. In the distance, she could see the first signs of the underwater mermaid village.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was only just coming on halfway through the allocated time.

 _I can do this._

* * *

A/N: Prompt: fame


	257. Champion Pt 2

Hermione sighed as she read the newspaper one morning about a week after the second task. At least the photos were somewhat flattering, even if the accompanying article was anything but. Rita Skeeter had been annoyed with her ever since their altercation over Ludo Bagman before school started. When Hermione had been announced as the Hogwarts champion, the reporter had seized the opportunity to disparage her publicly. She couldn't say anything outright, of course; while there were many who would have seized on any blood prejudice with an almost maniacal glee, enough of her readers wanted Hogwarts to win that she had to pull her punches.

That didn't keep her from digs and blows so subtle that Skeeter could claim innocence while making Hermione's life as frustrating as possible. While the articles didn't outright say it, if one read between the lines, they painted the picture of a barely socialised upstart with no idea of how to behave in polite society going up against two epitomes of virtue, honour, and class. Ever since Harry had been revealed as the person who she would miss the most, Skeeter had been making comments about how Neville and Ginny, their respective dates to the Yule Ball, must both have been so hurt by their actions.

It seemed that Rita Skeeter couldn't fathom the idea of a witch and a wizard just being friends. That or it made a more exciting news headline to pretend she didn't.

Even Molly and Percy Weasley had bought into it, cautioning Ron against spending too much time with her. Reading between the lines, it was clear that they thought she might somehow corrupt him.

 _She always seemed like a lovely girl,_ the letter from Percy had read, _and it isn't her fault that she doesn't know any better. But her actions hurt Ginny. If you think you can show her where she went wrong, it would be a kindness to do so. But if you can't, then I'm afraid it would be wisest to distance yourself from her. Still be her friend, of course, but perhaps you should spend some time with some of your other friends as well. From what I recall, your dormmates were all interesting and upstanding young men._

Ron had just scoffed and burned the parchment to crisps, but Ginny had sent back an angry reply insisting that Hermione was her friend, she hadn't been jilted since both dates had been entirely platonic, and the only thing hurting her was everybody talking about it. Percy must have spoken to their mother about it, too, because they both backed off, and Molly sent Hermione a gracious letter congratulating her for her success in the tournament so far.

But that didn't change the fact that, for many, it was still a problem.

In this particular article, there were side-by-side photos of Hermione dancing with Neville at the ball, Harry awkwardly dancing with Ginny, and Hermione emerging from the Great Lake, hair drenched and bedraggled, with Harry beside her.

Glory and fame and all that rot was more trouble than it was worth.

"Granger."

Hermione turned and frowned in confusion when she came face-to-face with Regulus Black. "Black," she replied, her voice as flat and dispassionate as his had been.

"What are you doing over here?" Harry asked, shifting in his seat as his hand dropped to his wand. After someone had sent her Bubotuber Pus through the post, all three of them had been on their guard. "It's the Gryffindor table."

Black rolled his eyes. "Yes, I had noticed that."

"Then you should probably leave," Ron said. "Hermione has enough to deal with without you being a git as well."

"I'm not here to be a git."

"What are you here for?" Hermione asked.

"I spoke to my godfather, Joseph Farley. He has contacts at the paper and is going to put pressure on them to rein Skeeter in."

Hermione straightened in her chair, shock coursing through her. "What? Why?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Like Weasley said, you have enough to deal with. You're the Hogwarts champion. Whatever the circumstances of your birth, we all want you to win because it reflects well on the school. If this helps you concentrate on the next task, then it's worth it."

Beside her, Harry and Ron were both open-mouthed in disbelief.

"Thank you," Hermione said. "I appreciate it."

"My mother keeps saying that she should have sent me to Durmstrang. Prove her wrong for me and I'll consider us even."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: innocence

Regarding the Yule Ball, the idea was that Hermione mentioned to Neville that she was finding it difficult because people only wanted to go to the ball with her because she was the champion, so he asked her earlier. Since Neville didn't ask Ginny, when Cho turned Harry down, he asked her instead, while Ron went with Parvati.


	258. Champion Pt 3

Hermione tried to massage a kink out of her neck as she stepped down from the podium and made her way back to the stands. The pain was courtesy of a pulled muscle she had gotten when a giant spider scurried out from behind a corner, startling her. For the first time, she understood why Ron was so terrified of spiders.

The discomfort paled in comparison to the pride she felt at her performance. She hadn't won – Viktor had taken that honour – but she had scraped in at second place. Fleur had had to signal for someone to extract her from the maze, but Hermione had made it until the end, although she had still been a few rows away from the trophy when Viktor claimed it. She and Fleur had both been given smaller trophies in recognition of their efforts.

She hadn't realised how much she cared about the trinket until she was presented with it. When she was younger, she had always seen medals and trophies as nothing but pretty knickknacks, although in hindsight, she had to wonder whether that was just because she had never been any good at sports and so had never had the opportunity to win one.

Harry and Ron both met her at the edge of the pitch, sweeping her into matching hugs.

"I didn't like you being in danger and me not being there to help," Harry admitted before letting her go.

She laughed. "You don't like anyone being in danger and you not being able to help. Honestly, Harry, it's like you're a magnet for it."

"That's true," Ron said. "It probably did you good, mate."

At that, even Harry snickered.

"It _was_ hard to watch, though," Ron continued. "I thought it was bad when I couldn't see what was happening last time, but now I'm thinking that it might be easier that way."

Hermione was opening her mouth to reply when the first of her classmates swarmed them. She had been worried that they would be disappointed in her, but while a few of them expressed sympathy, it all seemed genuinely non-accusatory. A close loss was, it seemed, considered a good showing.

"Ugh," Ron muttered as Susan Bones walked away. Hermione glared at him in rebuke, but he wasn't looking at the Hufflepuff, but rather something off in the distance. "Black and his friends are headed this way."

Hermione followed his gaze. Sure enough, Black was approaching with Eleazar Greengrass and Wesley Bulstrode. "Ugh," she echoed.

True to his word, whatever strings Black had pulled at the _Prophet_ meant that Rita Skeeter's negative comments about her decreased exponentially. Within a month, the rare times she mentioned Hermione in her articles had been practically glowing. It seemed that she had adopted the Muggle adage of only saying something if it was nice. Still, as grateful as she was for his interference, she didn't quite know how to interact with him now.

She steeled herself for his arrival, expecting him to accuse her of not upholding her end of the bargain.

Instead, all he said was, "Congratulations."

"'Congratulations'?" Ron asked, sounding affronted. "Are you taking the mickey? She came second."

"Second place in the Triwizard Tournament is still quite the feat," Greengrass replied.

" _He_ knows that," Hermione said. "We just didn't know _you_ did. Won't your mother see this as proof that Durmstrang is better than Hogwarts, Black?"

"Perhaps, but she isn't thrilled with Krum, either. You might not have heard this, but he has started courting a sixth-year Hufflepuff by the name of Hannah Cooper."

Hermione hesitated, confused, but then her eyes widened in recognition. "She's Muggle-born."

"Yes. When she heard that the Durmstrang champion is courting a Mud – Muggle-born, she decided that it was a disgrace to the school's name and means it isn't as aligned with her values as she thought."

"And what about you?"

"Pardon?"

"Has the revelation affected _how_ you view Krum?"

He didn't reply at first, and for a moment, she doubted whether he would. Just as she was about to make excuse herself, he admitted, "Not particularly."

"We should go," Greengrass said. "We told the others we would meet them after the task. But you did well, Granger. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thank you," she said, still finding it hard to believe they were all having a civil conversation.

"We should talk again sometime," Bulstrode said.

"Yeah," she choked out.

"What just happened?" Harry asked when the three Slytherins had left.

"I don't know," Ron replied. " _Did_ it happen?"

"Change." Hermione ran a hand through her hair. "Change happened."

She had lost the tournament, but somehow, against all odds, she had won.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: disgrace


	259. The Puppy

Presents were usually Hermione's forte. Her friends were open to a fault about their interests, which made it easy to pick for them. Sirius, though, could hardly be considered a friend. While they were at Hogwarts, they had butted heads often and at great length. The only reason she was even talking to him now was Regulus.

Which posed a problem. It was her first time participating in the Blacks' annual Secret Santa, and she had drawn Sirius' name. Unless she wanted to embarrass herself in front of Regulus' family, she had to find a gift that would satisfy him while also being seen as acceptable by his family. That meant that Muggle items were, unfortunately, out.

"Buy him a puppy and he'll love you forever," Regulus suggested. "He's wanted one for ages, but we didn't have room in the garden and our parents didn't want one in the house."

"Will your parents be alright with it? I don't care what Sirius thinks about me; it just can't offend anybody," Hermione replied, but it was a lie. Before she'd started dating Regulus, it would have been true. Her boisterous, rule-breaking housemate had always managed to get her offside, and if she didn't like him, then she didn't see why she had to go out of her way to get him to like her. But now that she was with Regulus, things were different. Most of his family were vehemently against the couple; if any of his relatives were going to accept and welcome her, it would be Sirius.

She sighed. "Are there any pet shops that sell dogs in the wizarding world? I've never seen any at the Magical Menagerie."

"They'll be fine. They won't be thrilled by it, but they'll just be glad it isn't anything Muggle. And there are, but they're usually half-Crup, which Sirius doesn't like since they're usually trained to attack Muggles."

Hermione nodded. "So it would have to be from Muggle London."

"Yes."

"I can do that," she said, a smile creeping across her face. She had never been one for giving pets as present; it seemed like it was the recipe for someone ending up with an animal they didn't want or couldn't properly care for. But maybe she could make a day of it, taking Sirius him around to meet different rescue dogs so he could choose one he liked. That way, he would get two presents in one: a puppy and the chance to be escorted into the Muggle world by someone who already knew how to navigate it. It would also give them the chance to bond. Despite Regulus' rocky history with his brother – and her own – she knew that it was important to him that she and Sirius could at least be civil. "That actually might work."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: choose


	260. On the Steps of the Castle

Hermione's shoulders shook as she sat, hunched over and sobbing, at the base of the elaborate staircase. She had been looking forward to the Yule Ball for almost a month. Ever since Viktor asked her to go with him, it had been like she was walking on air, planning and preparing and daydreaming constantly. It had seemed as if it had been pulled right out of a fairy-tale. At first, she had been resistant – fairy godmothers and handsome princes and happily-ever-afters just didn't happen in real life, even for witches – but it hadn't taken long for her to get swept away by the pomp of it all. It was her chance to dress up and allow herself to enjoy the frivolities that usually took a backseat to studying and keeping Harry alive, and she had been determined to take it. Like Cinderella at the ball, she'd finally had the opportunity to prove to everyone that she wasn't just the nobody they assumed her to be.

But then Ronald had had to go and spoil it for her.

She should have known that something would go wrong; that was just the world they lived in. No matter what they did or where they turned, danger kept coming at them like a honing missile. She should have known that even tonight would have some kind of twist to it.

"Hermione?" a girl's voice asked.

The soft voice sounded familiar, but she was too distraught to place it. Instead, she turned her head away, not wanting anyone to see her tears.

"Hermione?" This time, the voice was male. Great; now there were two people to see her distress. There was movement next to her, and she felt someone lowering themselves to sit by her side.

Whoever it was clearly didn't intend on going away. Wiping at her face, she turned to face them.

"We overheard what happened," Daphne, a Slytherin from her year who had been her partner for a Transfiguration project a few months prior, said from her spot beside her. Behind her, her boyfriend Regulus was hovering. He was slightly older, and Hermione had never had reason to speak with him, but he seemed nice enough. They both wore matching expressions of concern.

"Ron Weasley's a prat," Regulus said.

Hermione choked out a laugh, although it was more watery than usual. "He's just…"

"A prat," Daphne insisted. Slowly, she wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. "You shouldn't let him ruin your night. You looked lovely, and it was clear to everyone that Krum is smitten with you."

"He talks about you all the time in the dormitory," Regulus added.

"Really?" Hermione looked up in surprise. She'd known that Viktor liked her, but she'd assumed that it was just that he knew he needed a date to the ball and thought she was the least unappealing option since she wasn't obsessed with his fame like some of the others.

Regulus nodded. "Frankly, it's annoying. He keeps asking what everyone knows about you."

Her tears had slowed to a stop, and she could feel herself smiling.

"Do you mind if we stay with you for a while?" Daphne asked. "Our other option is to go back to the common room, and, quite frankly, that isn't appealing at the moment. Malfoy's just going to want to spend the afternoon complaining about Potter again."

"Of course you can."

Regulus moved to sit on the other side of Daphne. "Did you read that article in the _Prophet_ about Healer Wells' new theory regarding the origin of dragon pox?"

Hermione brightened. Harry and Ron hadn't been interested in discussing it any further than saying they were glad there was progress, and while Susan had spoken about it with her at length, she wasn't medically minded and didn't understand the full implications of it. "Yes. What did you think? Their research was fascinating, but I'm not sold on their conclusions."

"That was the least compelling part," Daphne agreed. "It didn't follow on from their findings, and it was like they felt they had to make their argument easily digestible and lost all of its nuances in the process."

"Exactly! And it's such a waste of really interesting data."

By the time Hermione left the couple an hour later, her good mood restored once more and a blinding smile on her face, the only traces of her earlier upset was a slight puffiness around her eyes. When she looked back on the night in the years to come, her strongest memory wasn't the sting of Ron's words or the embarrassment of crying in the hallway. It was the feeling of soaring as she moved around the dancefloor with Viktor and the sense of warmth and appreciation towards her two new friends.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: crying


	261. Moral High Ground

The invitation tucked away in the hidden pocket of Regulus' robes felt like a bag of bricks weighing him down. For months, he had been waiting for the day the Dark Lord would offer him a place among his followers, gifting him with the opportunity to fight for what he believed and fulfil his duty as the heir to the House of Black.

Typically, witches and wizards were only invited to join when they were of age. After all, they spent most of their time confined to Hogwarts under Albus Dumbledore's watchful eye, and even when they were on holidays, they weren't of as much use as full-grown fighters. He had reluctantly resigned himself to having to wait his seventh year out before seeking out the appropriate channels.

But the letter had come early, flown in by an elegant black owl who had huffed and soared away as soon as his leg was free of its burden. As soon as Regulus read the first sentence, he knew what it was. The honeyed words of Lucius Malfoy might have seemed like a casual invitation to tea to interlopers, but when seen in light of the secret code Narcissa had taught Regulus over the summer, it was clear that it was anything but.

Just two short months ago, that would have made him ecstatic.

Now, he couldn't escape the memory of the unmoving faces of the students in the Hospital Wing. Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect, and one of the few who had been kind to the younger Slytherins. A boy with curly hair and an honest face. An even younger boy with wide eyes and a camera. Potter's friend, Granger, with her hand outstretched as if she were reaching for help. All Muggle-born. All petrified. And all so tiny.

He had been saying for years that the younger students were getting smaller.

Whatever the monster from the Chamber of Secrets was, it would have been bred to kill, not incapacitate. It was pure luck that any of its victims were still alive, let alone all of them.

Regulus' fingers curled into the palm of his hand as he forced himself not to reach for his wand. Since before he could remember, his parents had told him about the risks of letting Muggles and their descendants into their world, of the dangers and moral failings they brought with them. He had been ready to do his duty to protect his family and way of life, as unsavoury as it might be.

But those were _children_. They were innocent, and they were tiny, and they didn't deserve to be dragged into a war they had no choice in. He couldn't see how someone could claim the moral high ground while their compatriots were out killing children.

He certainly couldn't. Even the thought of it made him sick to his stomach.

And he wouldn't. His gaze darted across the hall to rest on his brother, who was, for possibly the first time ever, quiet and sombre-faced. The attacks were getting to him, too, it seemed.

Pulling out a quill and a scrap of parchment from his bag, Regulus scribbled a quick note. Then, pulling out his wand, he sent it flying beneath the tables of the Great Hall, weaving between feet and table legs until it slipped into his brother's hand.

Sirius looked down for a moment, his eyebrows pulling together into a frown, before glancing over at him and nodding once. It was sharp, and his eyes were clouded with suspicion, but it was a start.

-x-

 _S,_

 _I can't do this anymore. We need to meet._

 _RAB_

* * *

A/N: Prompt: sick


	262. Colours

Hermione had never believed in the world of colours. No matter how often Luna and Harry tried to describe them to her, it was impossible to wrap her head around it. It was just a story – a way for the wizarding world to keep their children dreaming and their youth obedient. If everyone believed they had a soulmate out there, just waiting to be discovered and to allow them access to some mysterious new way of seeing the world, then they would do what the Ministry said they had to in order to meet them. Be good. Don't leave the United Kingdom. Respect pureblood tradition.

She didn't buy it. Her friends' ramblings about blue waters and pink sunsets just didn't make sense. They were nothing more than words.

People would give her amused glances when she said she didn't believe in soulmates. "You just wait," they would say. "One day, you'll meet him, and you'll realise just how much richer your life is with him by your side."

But her life was already meaningful. Her job in creature welfare gave her a sense of purpose, and the loneliness that Ginny claimed all unbound witches and wizards eventually succumbed to never came.

And it never did. When she eventually died at the age of one hundred and twenty, she still felt as happy and as loved as she ever had. Even if the story were true – even if everyone else could see things she couldn't – she didn't care.

She never knew the significance of the boy who had died thirteen years before she was born, sacrificing his life – and both of their chances at colour – to the cause she had given her childhood to.

Perhaps it was better that way.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: loneliness


	263. Study Group

A/N: In which there's no Voldemort and the DA is just a run-of-the-mill (practical) study group.

* * *

If there was one thing Hermione was grateful to Umbridge for, it was bringing the houses closer together. She could count on one hand the number of civil conversation she'd had with Slytherins from her first day at Hogwarts to the morning of the woman's arrival. When she had suggested a school-wide study group to help make up for Umbridge's failings as a professor, she'd assumed most people would decline out of pride, not wanting to admit needing something that was being facilitated by a Muggle-born. But desperation could make allies of anyone, it seemed. So many students had been interested that they'd had to split into a basic and advanced group, with the latter practicing the material themselves on one day and then helping to teach the others on the next.

It was impractical, but it was a lot more practical than Umbridge's theory-only DADA sessions.

The professor had tried to intervene, threatening them with everything from points off to suspension for undermining her authority. That hadn't lasted long; all it took was Regulus Black and Theodore Nott pointing out that their parents wouldn't be pleased to hear that a professor was trying to convince them _not_ to study for her to back down. She had not given up completely, instead focusing her attention on convincing the other professors to focus more on theory as well – but she had dropped the idea of pressuring them into stopping.

Hermione was glad. She'd had nightmares that were nicer than that woman, and she didn't want to see what happened when Umbridge's actions were allowed to go unchecked. Still, none of the professors were falling for her tricks, and as horrible as the situation was, Hermione couldn't help but feel proud of her cohort for working together so well. While she'd be sceptical at first, she truly believed that they were building friendships that would endure even after they left school.

Umbridge might have come to Hogwarts to divide and isolate them, but all she'd succeeded in doing was to unify them.

Hogwarts could not be defeated that easily.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: first day


	264. Toad

The toad hopped across the table, but before it could leap off the edge, the air rippled and a burst of magic forced it backwards. It let out a noise of protest and hopped back to the centre of the table, fixing Hermione with a sullen glare. There wasn't much it could do until she decided to release it, which she wasn't intending to do anytime soon. They were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library than no one ever used except for her, Madam Pince, and the occasional Arithmancy N.E.W.T. student, so she had as much time as she needed.

Between the Marauders and Rita Skeeter, Hermione had thought she'd had enough experience with illegal Animagus for a lifetime. Apparently, it was becoming an annual thing, just like Harry's near-death encounters with Voldemort.

"Isn't that animal cruelty?" Regulus asked as he settled into the chair beside her.

"It depends," Hermione replied, forcing herself not to show any of the relief she felt at her friend's arrival. She'd sent one of the younger students to fetch him; while she knew she could restrain the toad by herself, she would need backup to do much else. "Does Umbridge count as an animal?"

His eyebrows shot out as he let out a quick breath. "Oh. Wow. Animagus?"

"Yes."

"Illegal, then."

Hermione smiled. "Very."

Regulus leaned forward, surveying the trapped woman-turned-toad who had made everyone in the school so miserable that year.

"And the Headmaster won't be pleased when he realises she was using it to spy on his students," Hermione continued. When he was reinstated, he would make sure she never set foot on the grounds again.

"Neither will the Board of Governors." Regulus pulled his backpack into his lap and started rummaging through it. "I assume you want me to write to my father."

Hermione nodded. She didn't like the idea of involving Orion Black in school affairs, but he was one of the few people who had the political clout to make sure there wasn't even the slightest hint of a loophole for Umbridge to exploit. "I would usually approach Professor Dumbledore first, but with him gone, we might need to."

Rolling his eyes, Regulus started to set his writing gear out on the table in front of him. "Of course you would. Is there anything in particular you want me to mention?"

"Just how awful she's been in general. But don't worry; take your time." Hermione rapped her knuckles against the underside of the table, startling Umbridge into jumping further away. "I can hold her here indefinitely."

* * *

A/N: Prompt: trapped

Also for The Animagus Challenge with the prompt 'toad'

Happy Mother's Day to any mothers/mother figures who are reading this.


	265. Options

Hermione sat on a rock at the edge of the beach, detachedly enjoying the way the cool water lapped against her ankles with every gentle wave. It had been a long time since she'd last been able to just sit and truly appreciate nature; during the war, her whole focus had been on surviving, as it'd had to be. Now, however, she had _options._

Just two short years ago, that word had excited her. But time had dulled its shine, and she had grown to resent it a little. Those _options_ were the very things that had forced her into this conundrum. She had spent so long focused on making it through the war that she had no clue what she wanted to do now that she actually had. There were so many possibilities – so many fascinating, wonderful, worthwhile possibilities – that it was overwhelming. Did she want to go into law or advocacy to try to fix the wizarding world's wrongs, or into foreign affairs, or into research, or into Healing, or –

Forcing herself to tamp down on those thoughts before they ran away with her again, she sighed.

Regulus didn't understand. While he _wanted_ to work, he had grown up knowing that he would never have to. Any time she brought up the issue, he would listen for a while before reminding her that, come their wedding in August, she wouldn't have to, either. He saw it as him giving her an out, as a way of reassuring her that she didn't have to decide right away. But while there was comfort in the knowledge that she would be able to change career paths later on without worrying about the risk, it really didn't change the central problem, which was that there was so much that she wanted to do that she had no clue where to start.

She always had been scared of the unknown.

She kicked a foot through the water, sending droplets flying through the air like shining crystals. There were so many important careers in the world. She couldn't focus on what fields _needed_ to be revolutionised; so many of them did, and so many of them would have politics and debates so complex that she would feel like the war had never ended. She just had to focus on finding which one called to her the most.

 _Research,_ she thought. She would start with research.

But then Kingsley's voice slipped into her mind, reminding her of how he'd said that they would have a small window of opportunity to incite change while the wizarding world was furious and galvanised. After that window closed, deeply entrenched habits would come to the forefront again, and they would be left fighting against a rip they could evade but never defeat.

 _Law,_ she amended.

Apparently, she was more like Harry, with his selflessness and tendency to run headfirst into the fray, than she had thought.

* * *

A/N: Prompt: unknown


	266. Cat Test

Hermione held her breath as Crookshanks stalked towards Regulus, his bushy orange tail gently flicking through the air. It was the moment of truth. So many of her previous dates had thought it was weird that she put so much stock in her cat's opinion of them, one even going so far as to claim that she was just looking for excuses to end things with him. (She hadn't been, but she hadn't needed to seeing him interact with the half-Kneazle.) But she didn't care. Even in the Muggle world, pets usually had good instincts when it came to their human's partner. And she had seen firsthand just how well Crookshanks could determine whether somebody was trustworthy. Every date Crookshanks disapproved her had ultimately ended up being after her for her fame or her connection with Harry, not for her.

She really liked this one and wanted it to work, but as charming as Reggie was, she would never date someone Crookshanks didn't approve of.

Nobody wanted a repeat of the Scabbers incident.

"He's beautiful," Regulus had said when she first introduced them. She'd assumed he was lying, but he had insisted, to her relief. His brother was the most devoted dog person she had ever met, and in her experience, that sort of thing usually ran in families. It was good to know that he was a cat person like her.

As she watched, Crookshanks sniffed her date's hand, paused, and then turned to waft his own scent over him. Once he was done, he turned back and batted his head against Regulus' hand until the wizard started patting him.

Hermione exhaled slowly.

Regulus looked up with a grin. "Did he just claim me?"

"Don't let it get to your head," she teased, meeting his gaze with a smile. "He does that with bags and fireplaces and basically anything."

 _Except people,_ she thought.

After a moment, she added, "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

* * *

A/N: Prompt: watch


End file.
